Chapter 8
The Curios Cabinet was exactly the way Tiffany remembered it, which shouldn’t be possible, considering how many years had passed.
The little bell over the door jingled as she stepped through, Lunzie right behind her, and the dusty dimness felt so familiar.
She half expected old Mr. Ferguson to look up from his magnifying glass behind the counter.
Instead, there was a round and cheerful middle-aged woman behind the counter. “Hello,” she called out, but at the same moment, her expression fell. “Oh dear.”
“What is wrong?” Tiffany hurried over. “Can we help?”
The woman waved away the offer hurriedly.
“Oh, no, no. I just didn’t expect customers this late in the afternoon, and neither did my brother.
It’s his shop, you see; I just agreed to stand here while he popped over to the doctor to have a boil lanced—oh dear, I probably shouldn’t have told you that. ”
Tiffany had pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the woman’s torrent of over-information, and now she nodded solemnly. “Medical inconveniences are such burdens, but he is lucky to have you to help.” Hopefully, she sounded sympathetic and not disgusted.
“Well, that’s kind of you to say so, Miss.” The woman’s expression lightened. “I’m not allowed to sell you anything—Jimmy didn’t give me the key to the till, you see—but I can let you browse, and you can return in the morning to purchase?”
She looked so hopeful that Tiffany’s comforting smile wasn’t at all forced.
“That would be lovely, assuming you have what we are looking for.” She turned her body slightly to include Lunzie in the conversation, but he was looking around the shop with a confused little dip between his brows.
“I used to frequent your establishment when I was younger and Mr. Ferguson was—”
“Oh, he was our father!” The woman gave an excited little bounce and clapped her hands. It was clear she’d inherited her sire’s jolly attitude. “He passed on six years ago and left the shop to Jimmy! What a dear heart.”
Tiffany smiled at the memory. “Oh, yes he was. I am sorry for your loss, but I am glad I was able to know him. He always made me smile.”
The woman’s eyes looked a little watery, but they were crinkled in a smile. “Thank you for saying so, Miss. It’s always a pleasure to meet one of Papa’s friends. Now, you said you’re looking for something specific?”
“Ah…yes.” Tiffany turned in a slow circle. “There was a box…” She pointed to the back corner. “On a lower shelf there. It had items from the Oliphant clan, including several manuscripts. I was hoping you still had them?”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” the woman tsked, bustling out from behind the counter, toward the back corner. “I remember that box, because Oliphant is such a funny word, don’t you think?” she called back over her shoulder as she disappeared into the dimness. “Ooooleeee-fant, sounds a bit like elephant, aye?”
Tiffany pressed her gloved fingertips to her lips to hide her smile, and glanced at Lunzie. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning one hip against the counter—perhaps to take the weight off his hurt leg?—his green eye dancing in amusement.
He raised a brow and mouthed, “Elephant,” to her, and Tiffany had to smother her giggles.
“Here it is!” the woman called, a little breathless as she hauled a wooden box back toward the counter. “I have some terrible news for you, though, Miss.”
As Lunzie jumped to take the box from her and place it on the counter, Tiffany gripped the strings of her reticule tightly and tried to calm the churning of her stomach. “Terrible news?” She managed to keep her voice from shaking. “They have been sold? Do you remember the purchaser’s name?”
Mr. Ferguson’s daughter was still clicking her tongue as she pulled things from the box.
“Some of it has been sold. Most of it. If Papa sold it, we might have records, but Jimmy is shite at—ooh, I mean, his talents tend toward other directions.” She sounded as if she were parroting a phrase she’d been forced to memorize.
“Most of the Oliphant manuscripts have been purchased…”
Damn.
Tiffany inhaled a shaky breath, straightening her shoulders, prepared to face defeat—
“Except this.” The woman pulled out an old, dusty manuscript. “I remember this one, because it’s –well, it’s quite memorable, if you know what I mean.” She winked. “If you’re interested in Oliphant history, Miss, this is a good one.”
“Yes,” Tiffany breathed, springing toward the counter, at Lunzie’s side. “I am. I mean, we are. That is why we are here, to find Oliphant manuscripts.” So Bonnie can sell them to Lady Athena. “May I see it?”
The folio the woman laid in front of them was loosely bound, just pieces of vellum stacked on top of each other, no spine or cover to speak of. The first page was titled A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts, by an Oliphant Lady. A manuscript by a medieval Oliphant woman!
At her side, Lunzie sucked in a breath, but when Tiffany glanced at him, he nodded downward. “Ye should be the one to open it, sister. Since ye’re wearing gloves and that looks ancient.”
So, with hands which only shook a little, Tiffany began to flip through the pages…and by the third one, was blushing brighter than a juicy red apple.
Oh dear.
It seemed that what an Oliphant Lady had compiled was in fact some kind of sexual manual.
A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts contained page after page of wicked illustrations, with descriptions beside them. The words were written in a beautiful and delicate hand, but the illustrations…
Swallowing, Tiffany continued to turn the pages in almost a daze.
The illustrations showed men and women engaged in various sexual acts and positions—was that a rolling pin? Tiffany hesitated over one page, then flipped it as quickly and carefully as possible. Sometimes there were more than one man!
Good heavens.
Along with her cheeks heating, she felt a warmth building between her legs, and unconsciously squeezed her thighs together to capture that delicious sensation. She wasn’t na?ve; she knew what that sensation meant, knew what she needed.
Oh, look, here was a description, under the heading “Churning Butter.”
Seeking self-pleasure, the woman curls her middle two fingers into her channel, seeking the position of ecstasy.
The illustration was helpful. Tiffany twisted her head to one side to study it, then realized what she was doing, and hurried to turn the page.
In most cases, a man’s cock will release a few drops of his essence prior to his orgasm, in order to help lubricate the entrance of his member into her cunny. Of course, if done properly, she will already be wet from his ministrations (see pages six through twelve).
Oh.
Oh my.
Her breathing was coming too quickly, she was certain. Tiffany flipped again, moving too fast to be able to focus on any one word, any one illustration.
But then Lunzie’s hand closed around her wrist, halting her movements.
The woman’s lover settles between her legs, his tongue replacing his fingers.
With gentle strokes, he caresses her lower lips, sliding between and through, lapping up her essence.
Each woman will learn what she prefers, but a talented man will be able to stimulate her pearl with the tip of his tongue as he strokes her with his fingers.
“We’ll take it.”
Lunzie’s voice was raspy, as if he were caught in the throes of some powerful emotion.
Tiffany wanted to glance at him, to see what expression he wore in response to this manuscript…
but her wide eyes were riveted on the illustration on the page.
The woman—still dressed, except for her breasts hanging from her open bodice, reclined with her skirts held up to her waist, while a man knelt between them, his hands on her thighs, holding them open.
Tiffany thought her knees might give out.
This was unbelievably wicked, and she desperately wanted to snatch up the manuscript and take it back to her room, where she could study it at length. Perhaps with some Churning Butter.
I had no idea that had a name.
All of them had names.
This seemed exactly the sort of thing that Lady Athena would be delighted to own, and as soon as she could wrench her gaze away from the illustration, Tiffany would begin negotiations.
However, dimly, she was aware of the woman explaining to Lunzie that she wasn’t allowed to sell it to him, that they’d have to return in the morning when her brother was there.
Lunzie didn’t argue, but slipped Tiffany’s arm through his, thanked the woman, and pulled Tiffany unprotestingly from the store.
Vaguely, she was aware that she should have been more polite to Mr. Ferguson’s daughter, saying her goodbyes. But it seemed that Tiffany could only just focus on the throbbing urgency in her core.
Walking was the most delicious torture, as her thighs rubbed together…
“Tiffany.”
Lunzie’s tone broke through her trance. She shook her head and managed a, “Mmm?”
“Ye want that book?”
She cleared her throat. “Um. Yes. Yes, I think that would be…a nice thing…to own.”
“Then we’ll return tomorrow morning.” They’d reached the hotel, and despite her earlier teasing, she was grateful for the way Lunzie took charge and marched her up the stairs to the rooms they’d been assigned. “For now, I’ll arrange a meal in yer room.”
As if she could eat when she felt like this? “Thank you.” Tiffany had every intention of throwing up her gown and trying the method of Churning Butter the book had illustrated. Anything to quell this aching need!
Lunzie marched her right up to the small room she’d secured for herself, inside…and then shut the door behind them. Tiffany shook herself, trying to drag her attention back to the here and now and ignore the aching between her thighs.
“Are you—why are you…?”