7. Scent
Chapter seven
Scent
Dearest Helen,
I fear I have made a terrible mistake in agreeing to these "lessons" with Mr Hughes.
Last night's experiment in visual appreciation has left me quite undone.
Who knew a man's gaze alone could make one's skin feel like it's been struck by lightning?
My carefully maintained professional composure shattered under his dark eyes, leaving me feeling positively scandalous. And he hadn't laid a finger on me!
He claims our next lesson will explore the power of scent. Scent! As if watching me come undone from mere looking wasn't enough torture, now he intends to… What exactly? Have me sniff him like a dog? Will he throw me a bone afterward?
What am I to do, Helen? I am a physician, not some swooning maiden in a gothic novel. Yet here I am, writing to you about how a man's eyes can apparently make one's bones turn to water. Utterly mortifying.
The worst part? A small, thoroughly unscientific part of me is desperately curious about these remaining lessons. What could be so fascinating about scent that it merits an entire evening's study?
Your thoroughly compromised friend,
Emma
Emma rose before dawn, her body humming with awareness from the previous evening's lesson. The way he'd looked at her, as though she were some wild creature he longed to tame, had followed her into her dreams, leaving her restless and yearning.
"Focus," she told her reflection as she pinned her hair into its usual severe style, though her fingers trembled slightly at the memory of how his gaze had traced her form. Professional distance seemed a laughable concept after experiencing such heated observation.
She nearly jumped when she heard his voice from the doorway. "Good morning, Miss Brown." His voice still rough with sleep sent heat pooling in her belly.
"Good morning." She turned to find him freshly washed and wearing borrowed clothes that somehow made him look more seductive than his nudity had. Water droplets clung to his throat, and she found herself wondering if they would taste of him.
Stop that this instant, she chided herself.
"Your wound needs examining," she managed curtly despite her lips tingling from his gaze.
He settled into the chair with feline grace, and warmth spread through her chest as he lowered his trousers with maddening deliberation.
She forced her eyes away, though not before the morning light caught the sculpted lines of his leg, making her fingers ache to trace each perfectly defined muscle.
"Close your eyes," he murmured once she'd completed her examination. The words carried echoes of their previous lesson.
Her eyes drifted shut of their own accord.
"What do you smell?" His voice came from behind her now. When had he moved?
"Soap," she whispered. "And something else. Bay leaves, perhaps, or bergamot?"
"What else?"
She inhaled deeply, struggling to maintain clinical detachment. "Maleness." Her voice caught. "Danger."
His low chuckle sent a dizzying rush of heat through her. "Very good. Now..." His voice dropped lower. "Tell me what you smell here."
She felt him move closer, though he didn't touch her. The scent grew stronger—clean male skin, a hint of shaving soap, and something darker underneath that made her pulse quicken.
"I..." She wet her lips. "Sandalwood. And...you."
"Interesting that you can distinguish my personal scent already." His voice held amusement. "What does it remind you of?"
"Forests after a storm." The words emerged without her permission. "Dark places where anything might happen."
His breath caught slightly. "Open your eyes."
She obeyed, finding him much closer than expected. Something dangerous flickered in his gaze.
"Now," he murmured, "we explore how scent changes with proximity." He circled her slowly. "Notice how it grows stronger as I move closer?"
Emma's skin prickled with awareness as he drew near, then receded, teaching her body to anticipate his presence by scent alone. Each time he approached, her breath quickened, her pulse leaping in her throat.
"The body learns quickly," he observed, his voice rough. "See how you react before I'm even close? That's scent working on the most primitive part of your senses."
"Is this meant to be clinical or seductive?" She meant to sound detached, but it emerged breathless.
His lips curved. "I daresay you are seduced, Miss Brown, and I find your scientific curiosity enticing." He moved behind her again, close enough that she could feel his body heat. "What do you smell now?"
She inhaled shakily. "Heat. Desire." Her cheeks flamed at the admission.
"Beautiful." The word ghosted across her neck. "Shall we experiment with how scent changes with temperature?"
Before she could respond, he pressed his face to her throat, inhaling deeply. Emma gasped, her hands flying up to grip his arms.
"Fascinating how warmth releases new notes," he murmured against her skin. "Like flowers opening in sunlight. You smell of lavender, yes, but underneath..." Another deep breath. "Honey. Woman. Emma."
Her head fell back without conscious thought, offering more of her throat. She felt him smile against her pulse point.
"The body knows what it wants," he said softly. "Even when the mind resists. Look how easily you yield when I..." He breathed in again, his nose trailing up the column of her throat. "Your scent changes too. Growing headier. Richer."
"This seems...beyond the scope of our lesson," she managed, though she made no move to pull away.
"Perhaps." His hands settled on her waist, not pulling her closer, just holding her steady. "Though I find myself less interested in teaching than in..." His words trailed off as he nuzzled the spot behind her ear.
Emma shivered. "In what?"
"In discovering every note of your personal perfume." His voice had grown hoarse. "In learning how it changes with each breath, each touch, each..." His lips brushed her earlobe. "Taste."
The word sent lightning down her spine. "Mr Hughes..."
"Hush." He inhaled deeply again. "Just feel. Notice how your scent mingles with mine? How they create something new together?"
She did notice. Their combined essence filled her lungs with each breath, making her dizzy with want. His hands tightened on her waist.
"We should stop," he said roughly, though he made no move to release her.
"Should we?" She turned her head slightly, bringing their faces dangerously close.
For a moment, neither moved. Then Everett stepped back abruptly, breaking the spell.
"That's enough for today's lesson," he said, his voice unsteady.
Emma's eyes flew open. "But we've barely begun to—"
"Trust me," he cut her off. "Any more would be...risky."
Her eyes widened as she took in his state—pupils blown, chest heaving slightly, hands clenched at his sides, and… A sweet ache went through her body as her eyes landed on his growing manhood.
"Tomorrow then?" She tried to sound unaffected but need threaded through her voice.
"Unless you object?" His smile teased.
"That would be acceptable."
"Until tomorrow, Miss Brown."
Scent from His Perspective
Everett woke before dawn, his body already attuned to Emma's presence in the house. He felt her like a constant pulse beneath his skin. Yesterday's lesson in visual appreciation had left him raw with wanting her, every glance they shared charged with dangerous possibility.
The borrowed clothes felt strange against his skin as he dressed, and his leg still twinged when he moved it too quickly.
He found himself hoping she would examine it soon, then immediately chastised himself for such thoughts.
He was here to investigate her, not moon after her like some lovesick boy.
Yet when he saw her in the morning light, all thoughts of duty fled. She stood at her mirror, pinning her golden hair into that severe style that made his fingers itch to undo it. Even from the doorway, he caught the faint scent of lavender that seemed to cling to her skin.
"Good morning, Miss Brown." His voice emerged coarse, betraying his body's reaction to her presence.
She turned, and the sight of her cheeks already flushing made his blood sing. "Good morning."
He watched her eyes track a water droplet down his throat, her lips parting slightly. The physician in him noted her quickened breathing, the dilation of her pupils. The man in him wanted to see how else he could make her respond.
"Your wound needs examining," she said with admirable composure, though he caught the slight tremor in her voice.
He settled into the chair, deliberately slow in lowering his trousers. Her sharp intake of breath as morning light caught his leg muscles sent triumph coursing through him.
Once she'd completed her examination, her touch clinical yet somehow burning against his skin, he moved behind her with careful stealth.
"Close your eyes," he murmured, watching gooseflesh rise on her neck at his proximity.
To his satisfaction, she obeyed without hesitation. Trust, he realised with a pang of guilt. She trusted him enough to make herself vulnerable. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the lesson.
"What do you smell?"
Her answer came soft and wondering. "Soap. And something else. Bay leaves, perhaps, or bergamot?"
"What else?" He moved closer, careful not to touch her despite every instinct screaming to do so.
"Maleness." Her voice caught deliciously. "Danger."
He couldn't suppress his laugh, though it came out darker than intended. The way she swayed toward his voice, unconsciously seeking closer contact, made his control fray at the edges.
"Very good. Now..." He lowered his voice deliberately, watching her shiver in response. "Tell me what you smell here."
Her next inhale was shaky. "Sandalwood. And...you."
Something primal stirred in his chest at her words. She already knew his scent, could distinguish it from other elements. The thought satisfied something deep and possessive inside him.
"Interesting that you can distinguish my personal scent already." He kept his tone light despite the hunger clawing at his insides. "What does it remind you of?"
"Forests after a storm." The dreamlike quality of her voice made his hands clench. "Dark places where anything might happen."
His breath caught at the raw honesty in her words. "Open your eyes."
When she did, the naked want in her gaze nearly undid him. He forced himself to maintain distance, though every fibre of his being yearned to close it.
"Now," he managed, his voice rough, "we explore how scent changes with proximity." He began circling her, teaching through movement what he didn't dare demonstrate with touch. Each time he drew near, her breath quickened, her pulse visibly leaping in her throat.
"The body learns quickly," he observed, fighting to keep his voice steady. "See how you react before I'm even close? That's scent working on the most primitive part of your senses."
"Is this meant to be clinical or seductive?" Her attempt at challenge emerged breathless, making his blood heat further.
"I daresay you are seduced, Miss Brown, and I find your scientific curiosity enticing."
Moving behind her again, he allowed himself to draw close enough to feel her body heat. The scent of her, lavender and woman and something uniquely Emma, made his head spin.
"What do you smell now?"
Her answer emerged barely more than a whisper. "Heat. Desire."
The blush staining her cheeks broke the last threads of his restraint. "Beautiful," he breathed, then gave in to the urge that had been tormenting him. He pressed his face to her throat, inhaling deeply.
Her gasp as her hands flew up to grip his arms sent triumph singing through his veins.
"Fascinating how warmth releases new notes," he murmured against her skin, drowning in her essence. "Like flowers opening in sunlight. You smell of lavender, yes, but underneath..." Another deep breath that made her shiver. "Honey. Woman. Emma."
When her head fell back, offering more of her throat, he smiled against her pulse point. The gesture was pure instinct, her body's wisdom overriding her careful control.
"The body knows what it wants," he said softly, "even when the mind resists. Look how easily you yield when I..." He breathed in again, tracing her throat with his nose. "Your scent changes too. Growing headier. Richer."
"This seems...beyond the scope of our lesson." Yet she made no move to pull away.
"Perhaps." His hands settled on her waist of their own accord, not pulling her closer, just steadying them both. "Though I find myself less interested in teaching than in..." Words failed him as he nuzzled the spot behind her ear, discovering new notes in her personal perfume.
"In what?"
"In discovering every note of your fragrance." The hoarseness in his voice betrayed his crumbling control. "In learning how it changes with each breath, each touch, each..." His lips brushed her earlobe, unable to resist. "Taste."
"Mr Hughes..." The way she said his false name should have brought guilt, but he was too far gone in sensation.
"Hush." He inhaled deeply again, memorizing this moment. "Just feel. Notice how your scent mingles with mine? How they create something new together?"
Their combined essence filled his lungs with each breath, making him dizzy with want. His hands tightened on her waist as desire threatened to overwhelm duty.
"We should stop," he forced out, though his body screamed in protest.
"Should we?" She turned her head slightly, bringing their faces dangerously close.
For a moment, neither moved. Then sanity reasserted itself, and he stepped back abruptly, breaking the spell.
"That's enough for today's lesson," he managed, his voice unsteady.
Her eyes flew open, dark with unfulfilled promise. "But we've barely begun to—"
"Trust me," he cut her off, knowing if she pressed, his control would shatter completely. "Any more would be...risky."
He watched understanding dawn in her eyes as she took in his state. Her own body trembled with barely contained need as her eyes widened at his arousal.
"Tomorrow then?" The professional mask she attempted couldn't hide the hunger threading through her voice.
"Unless you object?" He couldn't help but smile at her attempt at composure.
"That would be acceptable." She smoothed her skirts with trembling hands.
"Until tomorrow, Miss Brown." He turned to leave, needing escape before he did something unforgivable.
"Mr Hughes?"
"Yes?"
"What will you teach me about tomorrow?"
The naked want in her voice made him close his eyes briefly. "That would spoil the lesson, wouldn't it?"
Her soft laugh followed him up the stairs. In his borrowed room, he pressed his forehead against the cool window glass, trying to regain control. What the hell was he doing? Every moment with Emma pulled him further from his purpose, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop.
Her scent lingered on his skin, lavender and desire and dangerous secrets. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would remember his duty. But for now, he let himself drown in memories of her lips quivering beneath his almost-touch and the way she'd offered her throat like an invitation to sin.