10. Twenty-Two
10
Twenty-Two
Rosalind woke up to an endless gray morning, the faint chattering of birds drifting into her room on a bed of cool, crisp air. She sat in bed, blankets drawn up to shield her from the cold, her eyes on the sky, and her head in the clouds. Quietly, she recited the proverb.
“A young girl’s life
Taken too soon by man’s foolish strife.
Wielded in heartbreak,
An enchantment a grieving mother did make.
So to all men, Beware
All around, there is fervid magic in her air.
Kept safe from all of he,
Until two and twenty, a border born shall be.”
Such words had held so much power over her; as of today, they would be but a memory. Would she ever look back and wonder if any of it had been true in the first place? She threw the blankets over her head at the silly question. Slow down, Rosalind, she thought. She shouldn’t be thinking so far ahead when the day hadn’t yet begun, not really.
A little at a time, she mused, and then draped the top blanket around her shoulders and slipped out of bed. The thick fabric dragged along the floor as she made her way over to her vanity. Rosalind brushed absentmindedly at her hair while she considered her reflection. She didn’t appear or feel any different, and yet there was no denying that something had changed. For the past month, the enchantment had slowly been relinquishing the rights to her body, a fact that only she and Jonathan were privy to.
She smiled to herself. Then, she recalled her last encounter with him just days before. A rush of heat flooded her face and ignited a trail of gooseflesh that prickled down the length of her back. She had asked him for a favor. But not just any favor; one that surpassed the boundaries of platonic friendship. How she had arrived at such a ridiculous idea and then proceeded to have the gall to voice it was incomprehensible.
It was likely for the best that Rosalind hadn’t seen much of him since. He continued spending most days elsewhere, in the town or a nearby village, conversing with local farmers and tradespeople. Perhaps he was so preoccupied with his duties as Chancellor that he had forgotten the entire conversation.
She groaned and covered her face in her hands. It was foolish enough to keep the truth about the enchantment a secret. Even more foolish to have kissed. To ask this of him was beyond foolish; it was idiotic. The worst part was that she knew all of this to be true, but had no intention of denying herself if tonight went as planned. She would be selfish and deal with the repercussions as they came.
Deciding she was not quite ready to start the day, Rosalind hopped back into bed and curled up under the warm embrace of her sheets with no one, not even her own reflection, to level a critical eye in her direction. It was another hour before she made her way down the stairs.
Rosalind had asked that her birthday be a simple affair so there were no concrete plans until dinner that evening. She had until then to acquaint herself with her newfound freedom without everyone’s gazes fixed upon her. The thought made her stomach lurch a little. Who better to begin with than the one person who always put her at ease?
The steward was in the common room that lay beyond the kitchen. It was where he and Maria, along with the rest of the household staff, would often dine and decompress once the estate had wound down for the evening. He wore glasses and looked to be scribbling arithmetic on a loose sheet of paper before jotting down numbers in a small black notebook. Sensing her presence, he looked up and beamed.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Louis said as he took off his glasses and stood. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Should you not be enjoying a lazy morning with a fresh pot of tea and a tray full of sweets as one is expected to do on their birthday?”
Rosalind huffed a small laugh. “I do intend to indulge, but first I…” She hesitated, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck. “I was wondering if perhaps you would try something with me?”
Seemingly understanding her intent, his expression softened even further as he replied. “Of course, my dear. What do you have in mind?” He brought his hands behind his back and straightened, waiting for her instructions.
Tentatively, Rosalind held out her hand. Even though she knew it would be alright, she couldn’t quell the quick patter of her heart as she waited for him to respond. If Louis had any reservations, he didn’t make them known. He simply clasped her hand in his and shook it.
A grin spread across Rosalind’s face. With more than a little enthusiasm, she shook his hand in return, which prompted Louis to clear his throat.
“That’s quite a grip you’ve got there. Might I suggest a lighter touch lest you wish to rid me of all feeling in my fingers, dear.”
She drew her hand away and offered him a rueful smile. Louis chuckled.
“Fear not, these hands have weathered far worse in the last sixty-some years. Broken multiple fingers, I have. That’s why this one never stands quite straight,” he said, wriggling his pinky. “Now, how about we set you up real nice in the conservatory? If we’re lucky, the clouds will clear in the next couple of hours.” He crooked an elbow out toward her.
Rosalind nodded and bit back a smile before gingerly slipping her arm into his. It was such a simple act, linking arms and walking alongside one another. She had seen countless men and women do so as they approached the dancefloor or perused shops along bustling streets. She had done so herself with Valentina many a time, often leaning in to hear her friend whisper something conspiratorially.
“Alright, you settle here, and I’ll see what the missus has cooked up for you this morning,” Louis said when they arrived in the room that gave Brighthall Manor its name. He smiled softly at her. “Happy birthday, my love.”
My love . A sudden wistfulness washed over her and settled heavily in her heart. Many years had passed, and still, she could envision the deep pools of adoration in her father’s eyes when he called her such. A similar look now swam in Louis’s eyes. Right as he was about to turn and leave, Rosalind threw her arms around him. Without hesitation, he wrapped her in a warm embrace. She held on to him as she imagined she would her father, and though no words were spoken, she hoped he felt her love and her appreciation. He’d cared for her as if she were his own and she would be forever grateful.
Rosalind lounged on the cushioned seat of the conservatory’s bay window. Beyond her sat a tray of half-eaten pastries and a pot of tepid rose tea. Around her, sheer blue curtains, which ran the length of the glass walls, were drawn open, welcoming in the cool, gray light from a partly cloudy sky. She was thumbing through pages of her book when movement in the doorway caught her attention.
“Chapter nineteen. ”
“What?”
“The chapter you’re looking for,” Valentina explained as she waltzed into the room, nibbling on a piece of leftover scone. “The scene I mentioned where he takes care of her; it’s in chapter nineteen.”
Rosalind wrinkled her nose. “That’s not what I…” she began to protest but the words died on her tongue when she met Valentina’s arched brow. “Fine.” She snapped the book shut.
Valentina smirked. “Doing a bit of research are you? Have someone in mind?”
Rosalind’s eyes widened. “No,” she said a little too emphatically.
Valentina laughed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t tease you today, so I suppose I’ll let that one slide. Now, have you tested out your enchantment? Is it truly done with?”
A pang of guilt niggled at Rosalind’s conscience. “Oh, yes. I, ah, sought Louis out earlier this morning. Shook his hand and then surprised the both of us by embracing him. No sparks, no shocks. It appears the proverb holds true,” she said with a strained smile.
“Oh, splendid! Though I must admit, I’m curious to see it myself.” Valentina tapped a finger on her chin as she considered aloud. “I believe Jonathan has buggered off to town already so who else can we bother?”
Her face lit up, but before Rosalind could ask, Valentina grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out of the room. They ventured to the stables and found Colby. With Franklin’s approval, the young footman accompanied them in their search for Charlene and Sylvia. After a bit of badgering, Maria agreed to let the housemaids take an extended break. The five of them then returned to the conservatory and settled onto cushions on the floor like children. For the next hour, shouts and laughter emanated from the room as they played round after round of Slaps.
Admittedly, it had taken a bit of convincing to get Colby to participate. Somewhat recently, Rosalind had bumped into him as she turned a blind corner. The shock from her enchantment made him drop a tray of tea and biscuits intended for Jonathan. Since then, the footman had gone out of his way to avoid her. The possibility of their hands frantically meeting atop a pile of cards didn’t seem particularly enticing to him. But as usual, Valentina’s persuasion proved too powerful, and she soon coaxed him into playing.
It was past midday when Colby, Charlene, and Sylvia were called back to work. After grazing on a light lunch, Rosalind and Valentina made their way upstairs to bathe. The sweet scent of violet filled the air as Rosalind took her time to scrub each and every inch of her body. Her face, already red from the heat of the water, flushed a deeper crimson when her thoughts drifted to why she cared to wash herself so thoroughly.
Rosalind was deliberating over the contents of her wardrobe when Valentina entered the room.
“I have a gift for you,” she said giddily, setting a large, ribboned box atop Rosalind’s bed.
“Val,” she drawled, eyeing the present. “You needn’t have gotten me anything so… massive.”
“Oh, hush now. I can get you whatever I please. Now, go on and open it.”
Rosalind approached the box and pulled apart the purple silk ribbon wrapped around it. She lifted the lid off, revealing a sage-colored dress folded neatly inside. “Oh my,” she breathed.
“I had the modiste make it according to your measurements, though it’s been more than a year since you last visited her. To be safe, I requested that she fashion it to be somewhat adjustable. We landed on this little number, which you can tighten by taking the strands at your waist and tying them behind your back.”
Rosalind freed the dress from the box and held it out in front of her. Delicate floral eyelet details adorned the cotton fabric. It had what appeared to be a generous square neckline, slightly puffed half sleeves, and shimmering shell buttons that trailed down the length of her dress.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured in awe.
“I thought it perfect for tonight. And that’s not all,” Valentina added with a playful grin.
Reluctantly, Rosalind set down the dress and peered into the box again. Something the color of pale pink peonies caught her eye. She reached in and held up what looked to be a half stay made of silk jacquard. Small, gold clasps trailed down the front, while strands of silk crossed over one another at the back.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Valentina asked. “And functional, which I know you’ll appreciate. The clasps allow you to take it on and off without having to do up the laces every time.” She clapped her hands. “Now, let’s look at the undergarments that go with it. They’re the most interesting part, I think.”
Again, Rosalind reached into the box and pulled out a silk chemise. The fabric was a similar color to the stay, but it lacked the jacquard print and was so thin it was nearly sheer. Delicate Leavers lace adorned the top and bottom hems.
She eyed it skeptically. “It looks a little on the short side…”
“It’s meant to be.” Valentina pointed at the box. “There are matching drawers to go with it.”
Rosalind picked up said drawers, though that didn’t seem like quite the right word for them. They were incredibly short, shorter than any drawers she’d ever seen. She couldn’t help but question whether they’d be large enough to cover her backside.
“The entire set was modeled after a design I saw in an Erdesian fashion magazine. They’re so much more innovative over there.
“I had a set made for myself as well,” Valentina admitted. “And I must say, it feels absolutely lovely against the skin. No rough fabric or stiff boning; the structure is held in place with cording instead. Much less cumbersome than what we typically wear. Give it a go, will you? I think it’ll fit nicely under your new dress.”
Rosalind swallowed. “Y-you mean for me to wear it tonight?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Heat crept up the back of Rosalind’s neck. What if it didn’t fit right? What if he didn’t like it?
“Here,” Valentina said as she swiped the garments from Rosalind’s hand. “I’ll help you. We might as well start getting ready.”
Rosalind considered herself in the mirror. Valentina had spared no effort in beautifying her this evening. And she truly did feel beautiful. Her thick, brown locks cascaded over her shoulders in luscious curls. It had been a painstaking process, taking nearly two hours to perfect, using hot tongs, paper, and a keen sense of smell so as to prevent scorching. Magenta stained her lips and cheeks, which Valentina made by blending a particular ratio of crushed blueberries, raspberries, and grapes. The reddish-purple color superbly complemented the sage green of her dress.
As suspected, the décolletage left little to the imagination, aided in part by the silk stay she wore underneath. When Rosalind first slipped on the undergarments, she was scandalized; the pieces barely covered her bits. However, she couldn’t deny how luxurious the material felt. What’s more, she had to admit she looked rather good and felt good too. So, she didn't protest; instead, she left her room with a smile.
The pair made their way downstairs for dinner and settled into their seats at the formal dining table. The men of the house soon joined them, all dressed in their finest raiments. Louis wore a black suit and a white bow tie, while Franklin and Kemba donned brown and plaid morning coats, respectively. Rosalind was surprised to see Colby in a paisley waistcoat and figured he likely borrowed it from Louis. But the empty seat at the head of the table drew her eyes immediately.
Maria swept into the room with wine bottles in hand, and Charlene and Sylvia followed close behind, carting an assortment of lavish dishes. “Jonathan sent word that he will miss dinner. But he promised he would return as soon as he is able. I’m sorry, my dear.”
Rosalind tried not to let her dismay show. She knew his duties came first and he wouldn’t neglect them to attend her birthday dinner. She hadn’t expected him to, wouldn’t dream of it. But that knowledge didn’t assuage the pang of disappointment in her chest. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to attend any of tonight’s festivities. Perhaps he had changed his mind, and this was his way of letting her down gently. It was better than him saying it to her face, she supposed. Just the thought of such a mortifying conversation made her shiver.
“He’ll show,” Valentina whispered, leaning toward her. “If he doesn’t, he’d better sleep with one eye open lest he wishes to relive his worst nightmare.”
Rosalind cocked her head in silent question.
“Do you remember when I brought that garden snake into the conservatory during one of our lessons? I have yet to see Jonathan move as fast as he did when he bolted out of that room.”
Rosalind smiled at the memory and her shoulders relaxed a little. Valentina always knew how to pull her from her spiraling thoughts. Intent on setting her worries aside, she turned her attention to the rest of the table. Her one request for the evening had been for the entire household to join in on the festivities.
Once all the food had been brought out, Maria removed her apron and settled into the seat beside Louis. Charlene and Sylvia quickly followed suit with giddy expressions on their faces. It wasn’t often Rosalind saw them out of their liveries, and it was apparent the women had jumped at the chance to dress up. Charlene’s hair was fashioned into an intricate updo and adorned with a large, handwoven flower piece. Sylvia, on the other hand, wore her hair in a simple chignon. It was her lace-frilled sleeves that caught one’s eye.
Valentina lifted her glass and offered a small toast that had the whole table laughing by the end. Glasses clinked, and dinner began. For the next hour, everyone enjoyed their fill of some of Rosalind’s favorite dishes: red wine braised duck, steamed fish with ginger, sweet bread, apple dumplings, pickled artichokes, and fried oysters.
An ease fell over the table, and conversation flowed as plentiful as the wine. It didn’t take much for Charlene to divulge the latest gossip she had heard from housemaids at other estates. Word was that Emilia Grant had broken her engagement to Lord DuPont’s nephew, Marcus Trainor, due to an indiscretion on his part. The news wasn’t surprising given his proclivity for indulgence likely spurred by his over-inflated ego. A family trait, Rosalind mused.
After dinner, Maria herded everyone into the drawing room. Moments later, she wheeled in a cart topped with a chestnut tea cake, strawberries and cream, and champagne on ice. Maria lit candles on the cake and ushered Rosalind over.
“Make a wish, love.”
Rosalind shut her eyes, wished, and blew out the candles. When she opened them again, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jonathan in the doorway.
“You’re late.”
Rosalind peered over her shoulder to where Valentina stood with a hand on her hip, her narrowed eyes fixed on her brother.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know.” Catching Rosalind’s eyes, he added, “I’m sorry.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Valentina beat her to it .
“I do hope you have more to offer than a trite apology. A gift, perhaps?” She raised her brows expectantly. “And it’d better be a good one.”
A sly smile tugged at the corner of Jonathan’s lips. “Rest assured, dear sister. I aim to please.”
The strangled noise that escaped Rosalind drew the attention of both Rashfords. Valentina eyed her with a puzzled expression while Jonathan had the audacity to look amused.
“Frog in my throat,” she said with a shaky laugh.
Valentina considered her for a moment more, then held out her flute of champagne. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Rosalind murmured and took a generous sip before handing it back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonathan reach into his breast pocket and pull out a small box wrapped in brown paper. He extended it toward her.
“No ribbon, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, th-thank you,” she stammered as she took the gift from him. Rosalind hadn’t expected him to get her anything, not when she had already asked so much of him.
She removed the paper and lifted the lid, revealing a pair of the most exquisite earrings she’d ever seen. Luminous pearls appeared as drops of moonlight suspended from delicate gold filigree.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered.
“Well done, brother,” Valentina exclaimed as she peered over Rosalind’s shoulder. “You should put them on.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rosalind started, her cheeks growing warm. “They seem fit for more formal occasions.”
Valentina held out her hand. “Nonsense. Give me the ones you’re wearing.”
Rosalind acquiesced, removing the small silver earrings she wore and replacing them with the ones Jonathan had gifted her. Though she could feel him watching her, timidity gripped her, and she didn’t dare meet his eye.
“Doesn’t she look lovely?” Valentina cooed.
“Indeed she does.”
Something about the softness in his voice made it impossible for her to look away any longer. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the flutter of her heart when their gazes met.
“Now, who’s up for some country dancing?”
Valentina’s boisterous query and the subsequent round of cheers broke through the haze that surrounded Rosalind. She looked back to see Valentina chatting animatedly with Kemba and Charlene, likely to coordinate the dances. That left her alone with Jonathan.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said quietly.
“I couldn’t very well show up empty-handed. Val would’ve had my head if I had.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Besides, I picked those out before you propositioned me.”
Rosalind’s eyes widened and she peered hastily around the room to assure herself no one had overheard him. To her relief, everyone seemed preoccupied with moving furniture to make space for the dancing.
“Jonathan, make yourself useful and give us a hand here, will you?” Valentina called out.
Minutes later, a lively melody filled the air. In the corner of the room sat Kemba, his fingers merrily traversing the keys of the pianoforte. On special occasions such as this, the seasoned groundskeeper would assume the role of maestro and bless the halls of the manor with joyful music. Once, Rosalind asked him how he had learned to play so well; he told her his grandmother had been an accomplished pianist and passed her love of music on to him.
A myriad of country dances and several bottles of champagne later, the evening drew to a close. Maria and Louis were the first to bid farewell, followed shortly by Franklin and Kemba. With half-lidded eyes and tiddly smiles, Charlene, Sylvia, and Colby said their goodbyes and meandered out of the room. Soon only Rosalind, Valentina, and Jonathan remained.
“I do believe I am”—Valentina hiccuped—“pleasantly sozzled.” She hiccuped again.
Rosalind let out an amused hmm. “I’m inclined to agree.”
“How is it I have had more to drink on your birthday?”
“Is it not tradition at this point?”
They glanced at one another and burst into a fit of giggles. After their laughs subsided, Valentina let out a long sigh.
“I think I’ll call it a night.” She rose unsteadily to her feet and asked, “How about you two?”
The question brought about a familiar flutter in Rosalind’s chest, which had plagued her on and off throughout the evening. “Oh, yes, I-I suppose we should as well. The royal ‘we,’ I mean,” she quickly clarified. “Really, I was referring to myself. I wouldn’t presume to know what Jonathan wishes to—”
“Lead the way, Val,” Jonathan said calmly as he motioned toward the staircase. Rosalind was relieved by his gentle interjection. In truth, she had started rambling, and she didn’t know what might come out next.
Moments later, she followed Valentina out of the drawing room and up the stairs, with Jonathan trailing wordlessly behind. When they arrived outside her door, Valentina planted a kiss on Rosalind’s cheek.
“Happy birthday,” she murmured with a soft smile.
She turned to face Jonathan and patted his cheek with more gusto than perhaps was necessary. Then she wished them goodnight and slipped into her room.
The pair were left standing opposite one another, cast in near darkness. It was some time after midnight, and the lamps that lined the hallway offered only whispers of light. Against the quiet of the night, Rosalind could hear her heart beating louder and louder with each breath.
She was met with the enticing scent of amber and orange when Jonathan leaned forward, and she closed her eyes in eager anticipation. But to her surprise, he did not meet her lips. Instead, he leaned past her and turned the knob of her bedroom door. He pushed it open a few inches but made no move to enter. He pulled the door closed again and reached for her hand. With careful, quiet steps, he led her down the hallway to his bedroom.
She had entered the room on multiple occasions over the years, mainly at Maria’s request, but she hadn’t remembered it quite like this. In the light of day, it felt rather cold and uninviting. A heavy stillness filled the air. The imposing room had been without an occupant for nearly a decade. It was apparent Jonathan’s return had breathed new life into it.
Golden flames flickered in the hearth at the far corner, draping the room in warmth and light. The soft glow illuminated the rich colors of the room she had never noticed before—the cherry tones of the towering mahogany posts that marked the edges of the bed; the intricate red-and-yellow patterns of the rug beneath it. And there were the traces of Jonathan, which could be seen throughout. Books lay strewn atop a desk. A decanter of brown liquor sat on the hand-carved wood mantel above the hearth. His glasses sat on a small table beside his bed.
“I figured my room was the wiser of our two options," Jonathan explained.
“Yes, I quite agree.” Rosalind was acutely aware of how thin the wall she shared with Valentina was.
“It isn’t too late, you know. Never is. If you’ve changed your mind,” he continued slowly, “that is perfectly—”
“I haven’t,” she exclaimed. “ Changed my mind, that is.”
A small smile flitted across his face. “In any case,” he said as he worked to unclasp the silver chain at his collar, “should you change your mind at any point, you need only say the word and we’ll stop. Is that understood?”
The question, somehow tender and assertive at the same time, sent a shiver down Rosalind’s spine. “Yes,” she breathed.
She watched in quiet reverence as Jonathan continued to shed himself of his fineries. He relieved his wrists of their cufflinks and shrugged off his brown tweed jacket. He set them down on a nearby table before bringing his hands up to undo the top few buttons of his shirt, seemingly relishing the newfound freedom afforded to his neck. Then he made his way toward her.
He rested a finger under her chin and lifted it gently; he lowered his face until his lips were but a hair’s breadth from hers. The eager anticipation she had felt outside her room coursed through her once again and propelled her forward onto her toes, closing the distance between them. She felt his lips curve into a smile as he returned her kiss with equal fervor.
Jonathan’s hand dropped from her chin to skim lightly over her chest and down her stomach before coming to rest in the crook of her waist. He brought his other hand to her hip and, without breaking the kiss, guided her toward the bed. Moments later, Rosalind felt him pull away from the kiss, and when she opened her eyes, she found him seated on the edge of the mattress. With his hands at either side of her waist, Jonathan pulled her in between his legs.
At this angle, her eyes lowered to meet his, and what a sight he was to behold. His hair was free of its rigid coiffure and sat tousled atop his head. His lips looked exceptionally soft against the sharp, shadowed features of his face. And his gaze held what looked like ardor and admiration and yearning. Perhaps she was projecting her own feelings, but she hoped not .
Jonathan lowered his eyes to track the movement of his thumb, which trailed across her jaw and down her neck. Gooseflesh prickled her skin as he lightly skimmed the length of her collarbone. His thumb met her neckline and traced along the hem until it met the first in a line of buttons that cascaded down the center of her dress.
Rosalind couldn’t tame her chest's quick rise and fall as she watched him unclasp the top button. With deft fingers, he undid the second and then the third. His hands stilled when he was halfway down the dress, and his gaze drew up to meet hers. He was, she realized, giving her the opportunity to change her mind. In answer, she lifted a hand to the top of her sleeve and pushed it off her shoulder. She did the same to the other side and the dress pooled at her feet.
It felt as if his gaze left a trail of burning embers as it roamed across her body. He leaned his head to one side and eyed her curiously, a playful smile on his lips.
Rosalind bit her lip. Damned undergarments. Initially, she had worried about what he’d think of them, but they were so comfortable she’d forgotten she was wearing them—until now. “They’re… modern?”
“Indeed,” he murmured as his fingers toyed with the silky fabric at her hip. “Never seen anything like them.”
Nervously, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “A bit much, aren’t they?”
“No,” he said softly. “No, I like them very much—so much that I’m almost sad to discard them. Almost.”
His hands hovered over the gold clasps of the stay. “May I?”
Rosalind nodded.
With little effort, he flicked open the first clasp. And then the next, and the next after that. Once all the clasps were undone, the stay gave way to reveal the thin pale pink chemise underneath .
Jonathan’s fingers danced along the delicate edge of the lace trim before trailing downward to caress the silk fabric. She sucked in a breath when the tips of his fingers grazed her nipple. He then hooked a finger under each of the delicate straps of the chemise and slowly drew them off her shoulders.
Rosalind stood before him, exposed from the waist up. She could feel his eyes on her and fought back every instinct to shy away and wrap her arms around herself. But whatever courage held her in place was not enough to brave a look at him.
Jonathan didn’t let her stay that way for long. He brought a hand to her chin and gently guided her gaze down to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted her. Needed her. She felt his hand settle behind her neck. And then he leaned forward and captured her lips.
His tongue delved into her mouth, and he kissed her like he were the desert and she was his oasis. He propelled himself off the bed causing her to stumble back a few steps, though the kiss did not break. Then he brought his free hand to rest at the small of her back and drew her closer. Something like a whimper escaped Rosalind as the bunching of his shirt brushed against her breasts.
“Bed,” he murmured against her lips in a tone that toed the line between question and command.
Jonathan helped her onto the bed. Rosalind couldn’t help but stare as he began to work the buttons of his shirt, revealing a long, lean torso. The mattress dipped as he climbed onto it and brought his lips to hers. He carefully lowered her onto her back and positioned himself over her. Their lips parted as he pulled back to look at her.
“Is this alright?” he asked as he shifted his weight onto one elbow, freeing one hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.
“Yes,” she whispered. Even as her heart raced and adrenaline coursed through her, she felt a sort of serenity underneath him. She felt utterly surrounded by him, her senses attuned to him and only him.
Jonathan lowered his mouth to hers. Then he dipped his head to kiss the soft skin of her neck. She felt his fingertips skim up her arm leaving gooseflesh in their wake before embarking on an agonizingly slow descent. He swept the swell of her breast eliciting a small whimper from her before venturing further south, trailing lightly across her belly. His fingers stilled when he reached the waistband of her pale pink drawers.
He drew back to meet her half-lidded gaze. He didn’t have to say a word for her to know what he wanted from her; she could read the question in his eyes. Rosalind lifted her head and answered him with a kiss.
Jonathan tugged at the drawstring of her drawers, loosening their hold around her. Rosalind gasped against his mouth as his hand disappeared under the silk fabric and slipped between her thighs.
His fingers moved in languid circles, sending pleasure skittering up her spine. Her back arched in response and Jonathan let out a low groan as her chest brushed against his. Moments later, Rosalind was met with another wave of pleasure as he gently pressed one finger into her.
He nipped at her lower lip before moving his mouth to her neck again. There he lavished her with delicate, little kisses, all the while his crooked finger beckoning her ecstasy closer. Having sought out the spot that drew soft moans from her, he now worked her with steady, deliberate movements. Rosalind’s hips rocked in time with the rhythm he set as she chased her climax.
“Jonathan,” she breathed. It was all she could manage as a crescendo of pleasure and a wave of euphoria crashed over her. When she regained her senses, she opened her eyes and met Jonathan’s dark, heady stare. She let out a shaky laugh and offered a murmur of appreciation between breaths.
And though her immediate desire was satiated, a yearning still lingered. She wanted more. She wanted to feel the weight of him, wanted to see all of him. Still reveling in the afterglow of her climax, her typical reticence hadn’t yet set in and so she wrapped her legs around him and pressed his hips to hers. In answer, Jonathan ground his hardness against her.
Rosalind’s eyes trailed down to where their hips met, her hand following in its wake. Tentatively, she traced the band of his trousers.
“Are you certain?” Jonathan asked, his voice ragged.
“I am,” she answered softly.
Jonathan nodded. “Let me grab something,” he said, pushing himself off the bed. Reaching into his side table drawer, he pulled out a thin bronze ring and slid it onto his little finger.
Though Rosalind had never seen one in person before, she knew what it was. Valentina had informed her, as had several of the more explicit novels she had borrowed from said friend. It was known colloquially as a sheath ring. While the act of wielding magic was illegal in Sauvign, magic itself was not, and the laws regarding the use of magically imbued artifacts were vague.
In essence, a sheath ring acted as a condom might, but with two rather convenient upsides, three if you counted the trouble of acquiring condoms. For one, the owner of such a ring did not encounter any issues with fit, nor did they suffer any perceived loss of sensation since they needn’t wear anything below. And two, magic made things less messy. It absorbed what would typically result from a satisfactory outcome.
After placing the ring on his fifth finger, Jonathan went about removing his trousers and remaining underthings. Rosalind found she was unable to tear her eyes away from his naked body.
“Your turn. ”
Rosalind flushed when she glanced up at him and saw the smirk on his face. Rather timidly, she shimmied out of her drawers and tossed them to the floor with the rest of her clothes. Her pulse thrummed as she felt his gaze rake across her.
“Now then, where were we,” Jonathan murmured as he lowered himself over her once again. Eyeing her lips, he bent down to close the distance between them.
Settling between her legs, Jonathan rocked against her and the friction was like kindling to a flame; it set alight flames of pleasure in her lower belly.
He broke the kiss and met her gaze. “I’ll be gentle.”
The sincerity in his voice brought a soft smile to Rosalind’s lips. “I know.”
They held one another’s gaze as he pushed into her slowly, carefully. Her grip tightened on his shoulder and back as she braced against the unfamiliar pressure between her legs. It wasn’t painful per se, but it was uncomfortable and her body tensed, unsure of how else to react.
A low, stifled sound escaped Jonathan when his hips came flush with hers. He held himself still for a moment as if to recoup his composure before slowly drawing his hips back. “Breathe, Ros,” he said in an unsteady voice.
She did as she was told and let out a long, shaky breath. With each measured breath that followed, her body began to relax a little more.
As promised, he was gentle with her. His pace was measured and attentive, and the tension in her body eased as she grew accustomed to the feel of him. When the pressure subsided and pleasure whirred within her once again, Rosalind’s focus drifted to where their bodies met.
The soft gasp that slipped from her lips prompted Jonathan’s restraint to falter. She felt it in the way he moved, how his pace quickened, and his rhythm became less refined. Still, he was careful never to overwhelm her.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck and lavished her with kisses, which grew fewer and farther between as his breath quickened. As his climax drew nearer, he slipped a hand under her back and pressed her closer to him. She responded in kind, her hands gripping his back, which was slick with sweat. Moments later, he shuddered, and Rosalind felt him pulse within her.
When his body slackened, she was met with the rapid rise and fall of his chest against her own. Rosalind shut her eyes and let herself commit to memory the weight of him and the sound of his ragged breath at her ear. How was it that, of everything she’d experienced tonight, it was this very moment that felt the most intimate?
Her eyes shot open and her breath hitched as Jonathan whispered in her ear. “Happy birthday.”