Chapter 14
“When are you going to propose, son?” Jonathan asked as he and Alec rode back to the manor house. Alec’s father had wanted to leave the city early and spend the next two weeks before the MacTavish ball at their home instead of in London. Alec would have to go back to London in a few days for some standing appointments, but he had decided to accompany his father anyway. He honestly needed a break from, well, everything really. He and Elle had both acted perfectly normal after that night at Puck’s, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, couldn’t stop replaying every little detail in his mind over and over and over until he thought he might go mad.
So, yes, a break from everything was in order. The MacTavish family would arrive closer to time for the ball, so until then, Alec would have a chance to examine his feelings away from Elle. He found that it was hard for him to think logically when she was nearby. When they were together, he couldn’t quite seem to remember why being with her in truth was a bad idea, or why expressing his feelings would be wrong. The kiss had to have meant something to her. He’d caught her staring longingly at him more than once since that night, her gaze often drifting to his lips, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. He knew that she hadn’t wanted to be courted at the beginning of the season, but things had changed now, hadn’t they? Would she truly still be opposed to a marriage proposal if it came from him?
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Was he really thinking about marriage?
“Come now, Alec. She’s surely expecting it. It isn’t gentlemanly to keep her waiting. Are you unsure of her?” Jonathan pushed.
“You only want me to propose because you like her better than me,” Alec responded, forcing a rueful smile. It was half true. His father truly adored Elle.
Jonathan laughed but soon a coughing fit seized him. He waved Alec off when he worriedly moved to help his father. “I’m alright, I’m alright. But yes, you are correct. I want to spend all the time I have left with my new daughter. So, stop dragging your feet, my boy!”
Alec couldn’t help but chuckle, but made no promises. Instead, he stared out of the window, feeling himself relax with every rotation of the carriage wheels. The city eventually gave way to country, brick buildings melting into gently rolling hills and thick woods. He breathed in deeply, the clean air making the knot in his chest loosen ever so slightly. He let his mind wander, trying to sort out what was happening.
He could easily admit that he did have feelings for Elle, but did he love her? Is that what this really was? He felt like himself with her in a way he rarely did with anyone else. She was smart and cunning and beautiful. God knew he wanted her physically so badly he could hardly stand it. He’d had to stop himself from reaching for her too many times to count since that night, had relived that kiss in his mind over and over.
But more than all that, he could see himself having a life with her, a real life, not just surviving and going through the expected motions and milestones until one of them finally died. The kind of life his father and mother had once had together, the kind Jocelyn and Callum had. One of love and happiness, which was so rarely the case in marriages.
But they’d agreed that this was all just a charade. Would it be fair of him to turn it into something more? Would she even accept him if he did?
He ran his fingers through his hair, having no earthly idea what to do, but the thought of their relationship coming to an end in just a few short weeks was…intolerable. He pushed the thoughts away, determined to enjoy the time away from the city, to enjoy what little time he may have left with his father.
***
“I have a surprise for you,” Jocelyn said over breakfast. Elle arched her brows in question as she stirred the porridge around the bowl. What she wouldn’t give for a breakfast burrito right about now. “I know all of this has been a lot for you to deal with—and you’ve handled it all beautifully, might I add—but I thought you could use a bit of a break.”
“A break?”
Jocy nodded, barely suppressing her grin.
“I thought you and I could go back to Chestwick early, just the two of us. For a few days, all members of the staff will be sent away to make preparations for the ball. We will be all alone in the house. We could…be ourselves for a bit,” she said quietly, giving Elle a meaningful look. It took her a moment to realize what Jocy was saying: they could be themselves. As in, Elle could act like the twenty-six-year-old graphic artist from 2020. No etiquette, no rules, no false identities, no pretend backstories. Just her.
“Oh my God, yes. When can we leave?”
“As soon as you finish breakfast and get dressed.”
Elle sprang from the table, flung her arms around Jocy, kissing her temple, and sprinted from the room like a bat out of hell. Alec was spending some time with his father, so she wouldn’t be seeing him much over the next couple of weeks anyway, and, to be honest, a little time away from him was probably a good idea. Things were getting complicated, to put it mildly.
She’d known that she felt more than friendly affection for him, but after that night at Puck’s she’d been on the verge of falling. And don’t even get her started on the kiss. It had been reckless and insane, but dear God had it been the best idea she’d ever had. His lips had been soft but firm, unyielding and demanding, and he’d tasted like smoke and whisky and something spicy she couldn’t name. His tongue had been hot against hers, making her bones melt and her body ache. His fingers had left trails of fire across her skin and she didn’t think she’d ever wanted anyone as badly as she’d wanted him. She would have happily let him fuck her right then, right there, up against a wall in a dark, dirty alley. That’s how out of her mind with lust she’d been for him. Kissing Alec was like a drug and she was addicted after one hit. Kissing him had felt so right, had made her shudder in pleasure, had made her crave so much more.
But she couldn’t have more. She just couldn’t, no matter how much she might want it.
***
Chestwick Hall was so quiet with only the two of them that it was a little jarring at first.
“We’re really alone?” Elle asked as they dropped their bags in the foyer.
“We’re the only souls here other than the horses,” Jocy confirmed.
Elle grinned. “Mother fucker!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. Jocelyn’s mouth fell open in shock, and then she burst into laughter.
“Asshole!” Jocy called out after a few seconds. It was so freeing, like they’d popped the strangling bubble around them and Elle felt herself relax fully for the first time since that fateful day in the woods that brought her here. The two of them stood there and yelled as many obscenities as they could think of to the empty halls, everything eventually just becoming absolute nonsense.
“What, exactly, is a twat burglar?” Jocy asked, breathless.
“I have no idea, but it was fun to say.” Elle shrugged and grinned.
“That felt good,” Jocy said with a wide smile.
“Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg, Jocelyn MacTavish. There are no proper English ladies allowed in this house for the next two days.”
They both sprinted to get out of their dresses and into something comfy, and then spent the rest of the day just…being. No pretenses, no lies, no restraints. It felt so damned good Elle nearly cried.
Elle fired up her tablet and pulled up Supernatural, glad that she’d downloaded the entire series so she always had something to watch on flights if the Wi-Fi was sketchy.
“Who. Is. That?” Jocy asked, openly gawking at Dean Winchester.
“That, my friend, is my future husband.”
“Can I borrow him? Just on weekends and holidays?”
Elle snorted and agreed they could share custody. Then they did yoga on top of the ridiculously huge dining table, because why the hell not, giggling nonstop as Elle tried to show Jocelyn different moves and she toppled over more than once. Afterwards, they laid in the sun on the back lawn and talked about their lives, not having to be careful with their words or worry that someone may be listening.
“Oh! I have a good one—hot showers,” Elle said. They’d been playing a game of What Do I Miss About The Twenty-First Century for the last half hour.
Jocy groaned. “I would kill for a hot shower. Quite literally. I’d take Matilda out in a heartbeat if it meant standing under a steaming hot stream of water in my old bathroom.” Elle threw her head back and laughed, imagining Jocy committing crimes against humanity for a shower. Jocy rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Elle.
“So, how are you doing? Really?”
Elle let out a long exhale. “I’m…alright, mostly. Some days are harder than others. I miss my life and indoor plumbing,” she said with a grin, “but I am happy here, believe it or not. The customs and etiquette and all of that bullshit is still hard to swallow, but I’m learning to just grit my teeth and revel in the knowledge that this won’t last forever. And I love you and Callum and Rose, you’ve really become my family. I haven’t had that in so long…”
Jocy reached out and squeezed Elle’s hand, giving her a warm smile.
“You’re our family too, Elle. I hope you know that.” Elle nodded and forced the lump in her throat away. After a heartbeat, Jocy added nonchalantly, “And what about a certain rakish gentleman that has been spending nearly every waking moment with you as of late?”
Elle rolled her eyes. “You know it’s all just pretend so neither of us has to deal with this stupid courting thing.” Elle had come clean to Jocy soon after she and Alec had made their little deal.
Jocy gave her a very motherly look. “Are you sure about that? I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at him lately…and the way he’s been looking at you,” she added thoughtfully.
“I…” Was she sure? No. Not at all. She shook herself. “It doesn’t matter. Even if I do have feelings—which I’m not admitting that I do—it doesn’t matter. I can’t be with someone that I have to lie to about practically everything.”
“You could tell him,” she offered.
Elle shook her head. “He isn’t like Callum, Jocy. He won’t believe me. He’ll think I’m insane or a witch or who knows what. Either way, it ends the same: him walking away.”
Jocy seemed to think it through, and Elle appreciated her not automatically saying “oh of course he’ll believe that you’re a time traveler! But you’ll still live happily ever after!” Elle was a realist and she appreciated not being given lip service.
“He might surprise you,” she finally said. “You have to remember, he grew up with the stories of those woods too. His mother believed in the tales…maybe Alec does too.” Elle wanted to give in to the hope trying to rise in her chest. She wished she could be honest with Alec, to share her true self with him finally, but she couldn’t. Jocy added, “Just…think it over. And remember: he might not know the whole truth about where you came from, but he does know who you are, Elle, I’m sure of that.”
Elle gave Jocy a watery smile, letting her words sink through the doubts and warm her a bit. But that was enough of that. They only had a few days to be themselves, so there was no time to waste on moping or worrying.
Elle shook herself. “Ok, enough of the heavy.” She jumped up and exclaimed, “We need wine!”
After a bit more Supernatural and a quick dinner, Elle changed into sleep shorts and a cami, and tossed Jocy some leggings and a t-shirt.
Elle jumped onto the bed, phone in hand. Thanks to her solar charger, it was juiced up and ready to go.
“And now,” she announced drunkenly, “allow me to introduce you to our queen and savior, Taylor Swift.”
***
Jonathan asked Alec to drop off some paperwork and a bottle of choice brandy at the MacTavish house. They were still in London, but Alec knew he could leave it with the staff and they’d give it to Callum when they arrived later in the week. Plus, Alec hadn’t taken Apollo for an evening ride in ages. They navigated the worn trail through the thick woods between the Kentworth property and the MacTavish’s easily, even with only the moonlight to guide them. Alec and Apollo had made this trip too many times to count.
When the woods gave way to open fields, Alec spurred Apollo into a gallop, the wind whipping in his hair as they flew through the night, the breeze cooling his flushed skin. His thoughts drifted to Elle, wondering if she’d enjoy riding like this with him, and he knew in his gut that she would. He could picture her now, riding beside him, her golden hair blowing out behind her like a cape of sunlight. Her blue eyes would glitter with joy and mischief, and his heart would stutter at the sight.
“Damn this,” he growled to the night, urging Apollo faster and faster until the world blurred around him. They slowed when they approached the house, and Alec frowned. There were no lanterns lit outside and no lights shining from the windows within. Curious, he dismounted and patted the horse on the neck.
“Stay here, old fellow.”
Alec approached one of the windows and peered inside. He didn’t spy any signs of life from within, no movement, no lights, no sounds of maids scurrying about. There was always someone here, even when the family was elsewhere. He pursed his lips and eased his way around the house. As he neared the back, he heard laughter. His brow furrowed as he followed the sound.
He froze for a moment when he finally emerged on the back lawn and gazed upward. Soft light streamed from the open doors to the balcony of one of the rooms, and Elle was there, swaying gently to some type of music Alec could only barely hear. It was strange, with a pulsing beat from an instrument he couldn’t name, but he could barely spare that a moment’s thought. All he could do was stare, awestruck.
Her hair was in a braid on one side of her head, strands of gold whispering against her temples. Her eyes were closed and a soft smile sat on her lips. Lips he was aching to kiss again so badly he felt as if he might die if he didn’t. He clenched his fists at his sides as he continued to watch, throat going dry: she was barely clothed. She wore what looked like a short silk chemise, one thin strap sliding down her shoulder and the lace dipping low between her breasts in a low V shape. His eyes drifted downward and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely stand. Her legs were completely bare, some type of silk short-pants covering her rump, but only just so. He could actually see the bottom curve of her pert backside from beneath them and he had to widen his stance at his sudden raging cockstand.
“God almighty,” he whispered, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. He stepped back into the shadows of a nearby statue of a mermaid, his heart thundering within his chest. Though she wasn’t exceptionally tall, her legs seemed to go on and on as his eyes slowly traveled the length of them. He swallowed hard, his fingers itching to touch her again, to trace the path his eyes had just traveled…followed by his tongue. Did she have any idea of the things he could do to her? The pleasure she could experience? He knew that she might have some knowledge, more than a typical lady at least, but she couldn’t know half of what he could offer her, the things he could make her feel. He shuddered at the mere thought.
She turned and grinned into the room, speaking animatedly to someone within—Jocelyn, surely?—gesturing wildly with her hands and jumping up and down. He ignored the way it jostled her breasts. Mostly. Alright, not at all. His eyes were riveted to each tiny movement like a hawk watching a field mouse.
And then Elle began to move her body in a way he’d never seen before. It reminded him a bit of the burlesque dancers he’d seen in France, but even they had not moved like this. She whipped her hips in a sinful rhythm that mesmerized him. She threw her head back and laughed, raising her arms above her head as she moved. She reminded Alec of the stories of fairies, dancing with abandon in the moonlight. It was so sensual, so arousing, he could barely breathe. He felt a twinge of guilt for watching her this way, like some miscreant lurking in the shadows, but he couldn’t stop himself. She continued to move her body, rocking her hips and twirling in circles, all the while laughing and smiling and looking more relaxed and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
She eventually moved out onto the balcony, fanning herself with her hands. She raised her face to the sky as she leaned on the stone railing, eyes sliding closed as she inhaled deeply of the night air. Alec was suddenly reminded of Romeo and Juliet and he had the urge to climb the trellis and profess his undying love. It is my lady. O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!
“God, I’m a fool,” he muttered. He watched her for a moment longer, something inside his chest twisting and shifting. He’d truly never seen anyone look so beautiful.
And he’d never felt love like this before.
Alec hastened away when she turned back to the room, running for Apollo and mounting the horse in one swift, practiced motion. And then they were flying, tearing through the night like a black blur among blacker shadows. His eyes watered, his heart thundering. He was shaken to his core, knowing without a doubt that he loved Elle, but he was also more aroused than he’d ever been in his life. He urged Apollo on faster, trying not to think of Elle, but it was a losing battle. He made it home and handed the horse off to the waiting groom without a word, running through the house as if the devil himself were on his heels.
A few members of the staff gave him strange looks as he bolted past them, taking stairs two or three at a time, not slowing until he made it to his wing. Alec slammed the door to his room shut behind him, leaning back against it, breaths sawing in and out of his chest. He ran his hands through his hair roughly, images of Elle flashing through his mind. With each one, desire lashed him like a whip.
He felt out of control, mindless. He yanked his coat and shirt off, tossing them roughly away. He collapsed on the bed, closing his eyes and letting Elle fill his mind. He wrestled with the laces of his britches, nearly breaking them in his haste. He slid his hand inside and moaned, hips bucking upward off of the bed, heels digging into the mattress.
Alec had never been so hard, so wanton, so aching. He stroked as he imagined Elle: the way her hips had twisted and writhed, the way her chemise had dipped enticingly between her breasts, the curve of her taut backside...He gritted his teeth as his thoughts shifted from what he had seen, to what he wanted. He wanted to kiss her lips until they were red and swollen, wanted to thrust his tongue against hers, wanted to feel her moan into his mouth. Alec imagined what he would do if, by some miracle of heaven, she were here with him.
He would tunnel his fingers into her hair and pull her close, shifting his body fully against hers, every inch of him pressing against every inch of her. He would lay her down beneath him and kiss down her throat, lick the soft indention at the base before traveling downward. She would gasp and arch beneath him when he licked her breasts, whimpering for more, writhing. There was so much he wanted to do, wanted to imagine, but as he continued to stroke, he couldn’t stop his mind from spurring onward. He imagined rising above her on straightened arms, moving his hips forward and sliding inside her, long and slow and deep.
“Christ,” Alec groaned through gritted teeth as he imagined her wet heat surrounding him, her soft cries of pleasure as he gently slipped in and out, enjoying every moment, every slick thrust, every gasp and whimper. “Ah, God!” he yelled out as he came in a rush. He dug his heels in harder, his hips arching off of the bed, spend lashing his torso and chest, nearly up to his chin. He lay there for long moments afterwards, breathing heavily, his vision slightly blurry. Had he ever climaxed so hard? No, no he had most certainly not.
“I think I am in a great deal of trouble,” he said in a breathless whisper to no one.