Chapter 5 #2
“Blast,” Ellis muttered. She’d turned her chair toward his desk so that they were sitting across from each other, using his desktop as their dining table.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She set her fork down and lifted her gaze to his.
Her features were lined with frustration.
“I find the facial hair intrusive when I eat. I don’t know how men with beards and mustaches tolerate them.
But then I also don’t know how men can put up with shaving all this every day.
” She waved her hand in front of the lower half of her face.
He chuckled. “We either shave, or we deal with food in our beards.”
“Have you ever grown a beard?”
“Briefly. I lost a wager when I was at Oxford.”
“How long was the beard?” she asked, narrowing one eye at him, as if she were trying to imagine him with facial hair.
“Longer than yours as I had to grow it over the summer holiday and return to school so everyone could see how wild I’d become.” He rolled his eyes as he smiled. “The dean immediately instructed me to shave it off. He said I looked as though I ought to be living in some folly at a far-flung estate.”
“As a hermit?” she asked.
“Yes.” He’d assumed she would know what a hermit was when he mentioned the folly. With friends like the Duchess of Wellesbourne, it seemed more than likely that she was familiar with such things.
“I think I might enjoy being a hermit,” she mused.
“Why?” He set his utensils down and leaned back in his chair.
Ellis had just forked a few peas into her mouth. After she swallowed, she put her utensils on the desk. “Being a hermit in a folly on a far-flung estate is the ultimate hiding place, isn’t it?” She gave him a sly smile.
He laughed. “Whatever or whomever you are trying to avoid must be truly horrible if you would consider such a thing.”
“On second thought, I don’t think I’d like it,” she said. “Whilst being alone is appealing sometimes, I’m not sure I would care for it all the time, unless there was a never-ending supply of books.”
“If you could be a hermit in a library, you’d be quite satisfied?”
She nodded. “I think so. Anyway, I’m not sure I’ll agree to further meals here with you. It’s too irritating. Not you, the beard,” she quickly added.
“Is that why you haven’t had any meals outside your room in the past week and a half?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I prefer to eat with a bare face.”
“Understandable.” Though, Roman was disappointed she wouldn’t be dining with him again. “What about the attire? Do you prefer men’s clothing? I imagine it’s less constricting than what you wear as a woman.”
“I suppose it can be, though it’s not as though my costume is entirely made for your gender. I’m still a woman underneath. In fact, I had to mask that by—” She abruptly stopped as a blush crept up her face. “Forgive me. I should not discuss such matters.”
He laughed and took a sip of wine. “It’s quite all right. I’m enjoying our conversation. It’s a pity you weren’t able to get rid of your corset, if that is what you’re referring to.”
“Some men wear corsets,” she noted. “Though I’m sure you don’t.”
Their eyes met and held. This dialogue was treading perilously close to flirting.
Roman didn’t think he cared, but he absolutely should.
Except he was enjoying her company far too much.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken this way with a woman—certainly never with Clarissa.
And he’d shared very little female company in the pair of years since her death.
“I do not wear a corset,” Roman confirmed. “I’m curious why you would wear one. I assume that was what you meant. Why would you need a corset beneath your clothing?”
The blue of her eyes darkened, and he sensed a sudden heat between them. “It’s not just a corset. I had to augment it in order to disguise myself.”
He still wasn’t entirely clear on her undergarments, but he understood that she would need to hide her curves, and that would include her breasts. Now he was imagining their size and shape. Bloody hell, this was beyond inappropriate.
Thankfully, they were interrupted before Roman could make a complete arse of himself.
The footman pushed the door, which had been ajar, open all the way and stepped inside carrying a tray.
“I brought the last of the peaches along with Bakewell tart. Cook hopes you will enjoy it.” He set the dishes down on the desk.
“Shall I take your dinner plates?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Ellis replied. “I’m finished.”
“I am as well,” Roman said.
The footman gathered up their dishes but left the wine and departed.
Ellis stood. “I think I’ll go upstairs now.” She kept her head bowed, and he feared he’d gone too far with their almost-flirting.
“Must you?” he asked. “Surely you want the tart?”
“I do, but I would prefer to eat it with my own face.” She arched a brow at him, and there was a sauciness that led him to believe she wasn’t upset, just eager to put aside her disguise.
Roman understood, though he was still disappointed. “Of course. Please enjoy your tart.”
She sent him a furtive glance, and he caught the lingering smolder in her gaze before she swept up her dish and strode from the room.
He exhaled, but his pulse, which had kicked up as they regarded one another, was still moving too quickly. Indeed, his entire body was thrumming with an urgent desire. He even had a bloody erection.
This would not do.
He’d enjoyed their first dinner together, but it was perhaps best that it was also their last. He brought the tart before him and picked up the fork.
Hopefully, his lust would diminish quickly. If not, a cool bath would be required.
More than likely, he’d have to satisfy himself in ways his alluring secretary could not. But the rogue in him would almost certainly imagine her doing just that.
After finishing his tart, Roman remained in his office for quite some time.
He recalled that Ellis would be using the bathing chamber this evening and didn’t want to go upstairs until she was finished.
Because the bathing room adjoined his bedchamber, he’d been able to hear her moving about in there.
It was most distracting—in a delightfully sensual way.
Truthfully, it had been a terrible idea to allow her use of his bath. But he didn’t regret it.
Since she’d been due to be done half an hour ago, Roman decided it was safe to go up. Tonight, he’d had the sense she might be attracted to him in the same way he was to her. It was decidedly best if they didn’t tempt that attraction.
He was still in a heightened state of desire as he climbed the stairs. The slightest thought of Ellis hardened his cock again. Past time for that cool bath.
He’d have to ring for water if he wanted a true bath, but the footman had likely left a basin of water for him to wash his face. It was possible Ellis’s bathwater might still be in the tub. No, he wasn’t even going to think about her and her bath.
He stripped his clothes away until only his pantaloons remained, though he unbuttoned the top of the fall. Opening the door to the bathing chamber, he walked inside.
Just as Ellis stepped out of the bathtub.
He froze as she grabbed a length of toweling from a hook.
At last, he saw her as a woman. She had long hair.
Though it was wet, he could tell it was blonde.
The rest of her was completely bare—from the gentle slope of her shoulder to the plane of her back, down her spine, to the graceful curve of her backside, leading to the long elegance of her legs.
Roman’s throat went dry as he stared at her. The erection he’d fought to keep at bay came roaring back as primal lust coursed through him.
She turned, clutching the toweling to her breast, and stared at him, her eyes wide.
Her face was bare like the rest of her—no beard or mustache to disguise her unparalleled beauty.
Roman had simply never seen a more stunning woman.
It wasn’t possible she could ever despise her faux facial hair as much as he did.
Her lips parted. “My lord,” she managed in a strained, dark whisper. Her gaze flicked down his body, lingering on his bare chest, then pausing even longer where his fall was unbuttoned and his cock had lengthened.
He quickly spun around, depriving himself of the glorious view of her. “I didn’t realize you were still in here. I thought you would be finished by nine.”
“That was when I told the footman I would start my bath.”
Damn. He’d utterly cocked that up. “I misunderstood. I’ll not make the same mistake again.”
“Perhaps the footman was mistaken and communicated the wrong time,” she said.
“That could be. I’ll speak to him. Was your bath all right? Let me know if the water temperature wasn’t adequate. I can speak to him about that as well.” Roman realized he was babbling when he should just leave.
“It was lovely,” she replied, her already unusually deep feminine voice even huskier—and more seductive—than usual. “I’ll hurry. I didn’t realize you wanted to take a bath tonight.”
“I don’t. I was just going to wash up.”
“There isn’t any warm water.”
“I prefer cold at the moment.” He really needed to stop talking.
“I see,” she murmured. Something about her tone—the way the word see had climbed—made him think she was not completely innocent. Perhaps she understood what it meant if a man was specifically seeking cold water.
Roman could not allow his mind to chase those thoughts.
“I truly am sorry. About this…and about earlier. I hope I didn’t drive you away.
” He knew he hadn’t, or so she said. She’d just wanted to eat the tart without hair on her face.
“The tart was quite good,” he added, apparently unable to keep from talking to hide the incredible tautness of the encounter.
“It was delicious.” The way she said that last word sent a tantalizing shiver across his flesh. “I took it with me, if you recall.”
“Yes, I knew that.” He forced out a breath. “I’m very distracted.”
The sound of her laughter danced along his spine. It relaxed him and made him smile. Without thinking, he looked back over his shoulder at her. Their eyes locked. She sobered. The heat filled her gaze once more.
With great effort, Roman turned away from her. “I’ll leave you to it.” He started toward the door.
“Be careful. There’s a bit of water on the—”
Roman cut off her speech by finding the puddle of water on the floor to which she referred.
His bare foot slipped, and his leg went forward.
He reached and barely caught the doorframe.
Still, he stretched himself in a rather awful way and was certain he appeared a complete fool.
He pulled himself up with a grunt, his hand still holding the door jamb.
“Are you all right?” she asked. Her voice was much too close. And far too full of concern. She touched his bare arm, sending a jolt of desperate heat straight through Roman. He turned his head toward her, but she quickly snatched her hand back.
Roman was filled with regret in that moment—that he hadn’t wiped the ink from her lip, that he hadn’t asked her to stay and eat the tart with him, that he was going to leave the bathing chamber without taking advantage of their distinct lack of clothing and potential mutual interest in exploring that state.
The edge of her mouth ticked up in a sultry smile that made him want to groan. “We have to stop doing this.” She was definitely aware of the sparks between them.
“I’ll be honest, I don’t mind if we don’t stop doing this. I mean—” He still couldn’t help sounding like a complete idiot. He ought to be plainer. “I wouldn’t mind if we took it further.”
She sucked in a breath and looked away.
He’d surprised her. And perhaps not in a pleasing manner. “I can’t seem to stop causing problems. Please forget what I just said. It was highly inappropriate. Good night, Ellis.”
Turning from her, he stepped quickly into his bedchamber and pulled the door closed behind him—probably too forcefully. He leaned back, grateful for the cool wood as it soothed his heated flesh. He worked on taking deep breaths.
He told himself to move away, but he couldn’t stop listening to her finish her toilet.
The entire time, his body raged with want for her.
Without thought, he slipped his hand into his open fall and withdrew his hardened cock.
He stroked himself, and he could no longer hear Ellis’s movements due to his blood storming through his veins.
He could see her, however, in his mind’s eye—her gorgeous back and enchanting backside, her naked, feminine face.
He could’ve stared at her all night. He never wanted to see her with facial hair again.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back as he moved his hand faster over his rigid flesh. This was madness. His heart was racing, and he was nearly panting with want as his body tumbled toward release. He should stop.
He slowed his movements, but then he heard the distinct sound of the other door to the bathing chamber creaking open then closing.
She was gone. He gripped himself more tightly and worked his cock until he came with a grunt that she would have certainly heard if she hadn’t left.
It was many moments before he could catch his breath.
A flurry of sensations washed over him, but regret wasn’t one of them. Damn, if that hadn’t been the finest orgasm he’d had in many years. Perhaps in his entire life.
Opening his eyes, Roman swore. He shouldn’t lust after his secretary. He didn’t even know her real surname.
If he couldn’t find a way to stop thinking of Ellis as anything other than an exemplary employee, he was going to have to let her go. Anything else wasn’t fair to her, and it certainly wasn’t right for him to continue wanting her.
He was a better man than this, rutting after someone who worked for him, who trusted him, wasn’t he? He hoped so, but he’d been too long without a woman and even longer without a woman who truly wanted him.
That was the real danger. He saw his own desire reflected in Ellis’s eyes, felt it in the touch of her hand—which she’d immediately withdrawn. He wouldn’t impose himself on her, employee or not.
But if she invited his attentions?
Roman didn’t think he could resist.