So he had been paying attention, but of course he said. Madison remembered never being able to say anything that he did not recall later on. The physician and his superb memory. The attempt to maintain her composed facade faltered as she met his gaze again. A subtle glimmer of desire lingered there and kept her own internal flame flickering brightly in response. To keep herself from falling victim to his magnetic pull, the tour guide turned and began to lead him the long path towards one of the largest rooms in the manor. It was set off from the main series of rooms down the entrance hallway, but the small walk was well worth it in her opinion.
Madison briefly considered being cruel. She could take him to Lawrence’s bedchamber and put on display the large bed that resides there. The blow would hit home easily, but not even her pain could make her that ruthless, that detached from the way it would wound him. The idea flittered out of her head on compassionate wings almost as soon as it entered.
It took only a few moments to realize that Remy’s tread on the polished marble floors was as soft as her own. A swell of unbidden pride rushed into her chest and she sought to stifle it, only because she knew where such a thought might lead her. The huntress was not fast enough and the memories of teaching him how to step in the forest rushed towards her. Their long travels from the cabin to the Grafton Inn with stolen kisses as rewards and heavy teasing for setbacks. Deeper into the emotional reverie was the woman drawn until an electric shock of his touch raced up her arm.
Momentarily, Madison stiffened as though straightened by an invisible string pulling her directly upward but she kept her feet moving. The physician’s hand slid into hers like a lock closing perfectly with its other half. The breath she had been holding escaped through barely parted lips. At first, long fingers did not curl around his but instead she relished the familiarity of the touch. A debate raged in her mind, flickering back and forth between dissolving into her passion and tearing her hand away. Both would send clear signals of where they stood but she was not certain of which to choose. She was so angry, still entirely betrayed by everything he had kept from her. Yet their connection was electrically undeniable.
The huntress sighed softly as she led him, by the hand, through a small space created by a large door. Delicately, she drew him into the large expanse of a room. Bright blue eyes flickered over the familiar furnishings. Books filled the tall shelves, bound in leather and paper and cloth, from floor to exceptionally high ceiling. Two doors existing on the second floor off the balcony that trimmed the room, one to another private study of Lawrence’s and the other into a small drawing room. Madison took a deep breath, drawing in the comforting smell of a nearly endless supply of reading material. Still, she held his hand, even as she closed the door behind her by leaning back against it. The thunk and subsequent click of the door echoed to the glass dome that comprised the roof above them.
Slowly, she released his hand but did not pull away. She stood with the tips of all her fingers touching his, brushing against them. Gaze traversed over the couches and cushions and comfort designed to enhance the reading experience. As their minute touch endured, lurid thoughts began to become more pressing. The thought of his hands on her against the table in the corner. The feel of his lips against her neck against the bookshelves. The effort of restraining herself from him was beginning to show and she took a ragged breath.
“This is my favorite room.” She smiled slightly as her eyes kept falling on different places she considered having a trust with him. “The library.”
As they made their way down the long corridor, their footfalls as whisper-quiet as the rustle of their clothing, Remy once again felt a kernel of hope flare to life behind his ribs. Her palm was warm against his fingertips, and achingly familiar; the caress of her deft hand, which did not withdraw from his daring touch, was a sensation that once more evoked the bittersweet feeling of home in his chest. Striding side by side, he could almost imagine a world in which they could click back into place, two complementary parts of the same whole.
Hope was a sadistic mistress indeed.
He gritted his teeth against its cruel visions of an unattainable future, focusing instead on the pulses of electricity that danced up his arm from their point of contact. It was perhaps a risk to be so brazen beneath the Terrils’ own roof, but if this afternoon was all they had to play out the final chapters of their epic story, then Remy was willing to take that chance.
She led him through a broad door and into a vast room, each wall lined with broad bookshelves from tiled floor to vaulted ceiling. Bright afternoon light spilled through a glass dome above, illuminating the center of the space and casting soft shadows beyond. He reflexively tightened his fingers around hers, his sudden soft inhale audible in the somber quiet of the impressive library.
“The library at Wymberly is…not like this. Not anymore.” The words slipped from Remy’s lips in a near-whisper before he realized what he was saying and to whom, his blue gaze sweeping over the rails of the mezzanine. “My mother used to keep the library. It was one of the few rooms she had control over. I don’t really remember her reading much…other than when she used to read to my sister and me.” He tried to swallow away the sudden tightness in his throat. “I think it was a space my father had no real interest in upkeeping himself, so he gave her free reign to placate her.”
The doctor turned to face the huntress without relinquishing her hand. It was strange, speaking to Madison of a past he had tried to erase from his own recollections—a past he had foolishly attempted to keep hidden from her.
He ran his thumb over her knuckle as he met her azure gaze. In spite of it all, the memory of their first reading lesson replayed in his mind with startling clarity. Nestled side by side in the cabin loft—wind and snow battering the walls, the glow of the oil lamp painting her skin gold—their attention had quickly shifted to sultry murmurs and literary kisses.
His heartbeat accelerated. “Is this your way of telling me you’ve been practicing your reading?” he asked, his eyes darting to her lips and back again. In the dreamy atmosphere of the Terrils’ library, with the earthy perfume of parchment and leather in the air, it was all he could do to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms and summarizing those sessions all over again. He leaned slightly forward, dropping his tone even lower. “I can’t have been so bad a teacher if…” His eyes flashed with something akin to mirth, although not without a trace of ever-present sadness. “If you still remember your vowels.”
Curious cerulean eyes followed his gaze as he took it all in. The wonder that passed over his face found something inside of her, stoking it back to life. The hope coupled with burgeoning desire awakened from its forced coma. The sound in his voice, the memory of his childhood described so clearly made her want to draw him close – pull him into her. The Commander had not spoken of his life before the physician mentor had drained him except in fleeting instances. Madison had been content – then – to not pry into his past. Now, now she drank in the knowledge as thought it was water in a desert.
She realized that the lost sister he had been searching for was the one the High Commander had lost in the Rising and that Remy’s mother was the beautiful wife, forlorn but content with her children. They had both been murdered, despite the false hope the man beside her held. A longing to hear more about them, about his childhood, about him filled her and she felt his eyes suddenly meet hers.
The heat in his stare vanquished all thoughts of his history. Need coursed through her at the impact of his thumb brushing across her knuckles. Sparks darted up her skin and the question hovered between them, in that minimal space that separated them. The pounding of her heart had to be loud enough for him to heart, for it was deafening in her own ears. Dark blonde head dropped closer to her own and she was acutely aware that she was wedged between the thick library door and his broad chest.
The last word uttered exploded through her with a yearning across the tight skin of her hips. How would she ever forget her vowels. A associated with his lips against her own, featherlight. E again, deeper. I, deeper still. O and U. The words whispered against the smooth skin of her neck. Madison. Remy would undo her as she had intended to do to him in the dining hall. Swallowing, as discretely as she could, the huntress longed to draw her hand entirely from his own and into his hair, pulling his head down to hungrily grab his lips.
But she didn’t.
She had given in in the hallway, in the dining room. Pride prevented her from doing it now. Like the cabin, he sought to stoke the fire inside of her so that she would dissolve into him. Fuck, how she wanted to. Instead, Madison drew her own lip between her teeth, slowly letting it slip out into an amused pout. “If I remember correctly, I was your star pupil.” As the words exited her, a slender hand slipped up his chest, thumb carefully running across each button that hid his flesh from her knowing touch. “And I excel at all things.” She added, slipping away from him, but drawing him after her. She tugged at his fingers before letting their contact end. The huntress had watched Elora enough to know how to let her hips sway, just slightly more than they normally would, as she walked away from him.
“This section may be of particular interest to you.” Madison ran slender fingers along the row at eye level. It housed a number of thick volumes on medicine and anatomy. The first time she had come across it, she had thrown a number of them across the room and subsequently spent the following day assisting a master in putting them back together. It had been reckless of her, and afterwards she had felt guilty. Now, she delighted as the realization dawned on him. The anger she harbored at his betrayal at been left in the hallway, unable to penetrate the enclosure. Cerulean eyes glittered and she allowed her attention to sweep upwards. Where there had just been bright light, now thick and fluffy snowflakes began to fall down onto the glass dome. They melted on contact at first, before beginning to accumulate along the metal rods. It all reminded her od their time together, in the cabin. “Though, I am curious if you remember how to make your lectures…” She paused, as she had in their bed, as she had before he had showed her exactly what he meant by savor, “dynamic.”
Uncertainty fluttered in his stomach and tickled the underside of his ribs. Their tenuous truce stretched taut between them, a thread in the path of inevitable wildfire. But whether those flames would spring forth from fury or passion remained to be seen—and Remy felt powerless to steer its outcome, a spectator on the sidelines of a conflict for which he was at fault but had no control to rectify.
Even as his own flame burned hotter, its sparks flying to mingle with her own, he couldn’t help but feel that the very fine line upon which he walked was growing ever narrower. And truthfully, he did not know which way he would rather tumble should he lose his footing. Was it better to err on the side of restraint, to look back and regret the last embraces he pulled away from, the touches he kept to himself? Or would he rather dive into the inferno, with all the bliss and pain that came with it?
The filtered light from the glass dome high above dimmed as thick clouds veiled the afternoon sun. Shadows sprawled with blurred edges across the fine tufted carpets and deep shelves, casting Madison’s face in a wintry glow that only made her eyes shine all the bluer. A subtle flicker of desire mirrored the gleam in his own gaze. “You always did put everyone else to shame,” he murmured in response to her boastful recollection. His breath caught in his throat as her hand found his chest, her fingers tracing the path of buttons that fastened his fine cobalt shirt. Surely she could feel the wild percussion of his heart beneath her palm. “I wouldn’t imagine you’d stop excelling now.”
She pulled back then, but her touch beckoned him forward as she drew her hand away, making certain their fingertips remained in contact for as much of her withdrawal as possible. With his pulse drumming in his ears, he followed her. Her slender hips swayed with each step in her form-fitting pants, and Remy was suddenly convinced she was doing this to rattle him—to finish the undoing she had already put into motion with her ravenous kiss in the dining hall. To what end, he did not know; whether she was similarly taking her body’s lead, or deliberately stoking his love and desire only to dash them again with hatred. And ultimately, he decided, it did not matter.
Remy’s eyes traced the path her fingers swept against a row of books on a shelf along the east wall. The titles snagged his attention immediately—several distinct volumes of Gray’s Anatomy, their spines worn and faded with immense age; The Principles and Practice of Medicine; a trilogy of impossibly thick matching tomes emphatically entitled Manual of Cardiology, Manual of Neurology, Manual of Dermatology; all amongst other volumes ranging in topic from orthopedics and infectious disease to surgical techniques and pathology. His heart leapt. “Oh,” he breathed, halting before the shelf in awe. “This is…” He didn’t know what to say. He reached out tentatively, as though the books might vanish beneath his touch, then traced featherlight fingers over the debossed spines. “Right here, on this shelf alone…it’s more medical information than Dr. Sterling ever could have dreamed of.”
He turned to Madison, realizing that it was the first time he had openly mentioned the doctor who had trained him, the man who had rescued and raised him. Gratitude glinted in his stormy eyes. Despite the anger he knew still simmered in Madison, she had given him this gift—a thoughtful, poignant gesture made even more profound by the fact that it acknowledged that he was not a soldier, but a healer. That whatever she may think of him, beneath the wicked titles and decorum, she still knew him to be Dr. Remy Sterling. And he clung to that knowledge with all his might.
He didn’t know what to say, not even when she brought up his lectures. He took a slow step toward the waiting huntress, closing the space between them until they very nearly touched. “Madison,” he said quietly, his voice saturated with emotion. Thank you didn’t seem adequate. A long, but pregnant, pause suffused the minute space between them as he grappled with what to say to communicate his appreciation, or if he even should at all.
As if on cue, a gust of wind rattled the windowpanes, and he glanced to them to see a deluge of snowflakes constructing a shifting wall of white outside. He reached up, tucking a wave of escaped brunette hair behind her ear. “I remember everything,” he answered, his voice a sultry whisper. He bowed his head until their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing. He could feel the warmth of her breath, still sweetly scented with wine. A shiver of need sent gooseflesh racing up his arms. “But it never hurts to study.”
The soft exclamation of awe kept her focus on the surprised doctor. The pleasure on his face was a different kind than the one she had sought in the hallway of the Terril estate. It was the kind of pleasure she would have gotten from giving him a Yuletide gift or finding him a new jacket amongst salvaged clothing. Despite herself, Madison’s heart swelled with the knowledge that she had been the one to astonish him so completely. However, it was her turn to be surprised. Dr. Sterling. To her, Remy had always been the only Dr. Sterling she had considered. In reality, the man had been Remy’s mentor.
A thousand questions flickered into her mind, candles lighting and extinguishing as she attempted to catch up. Which one would she ask? Which one would he answer? How had he come to meet the man that trained him in the healing arts? How had the man died? Why had Remy chosen this career after...after what? Running away from his past? Running away from his father? Everything swirled together and Madison searched for a lifeline amidst the chaos. She was an unmoored ship tossed upon stormy seas, ready to be tossed against sharp rocks or dragged into the dark depths.
Then Remy threw her the very strand she needed to pull herself out. The sound of her name, thick with all of his emotions, drew her back. The huntress blinked slowly, having been staring at him but entirely unfocused. The gentle part of his lips after forming the syllables of her name beckoned her. Just kiss him. The devious part of her tempted her and she leaned forwards, feeling his warmth breath rush across her features. Just a little bit closer.
The rattle of the glass dome prevented the movement and their eyes darted upwards quickly to take in the winter storm that was beginning to pick up outside. The space between them remained miniscule as he brushed against her cheek to tuck back her hair. The movement was tender, with no need to take it further until his voice took on a tone that made heat turn molten in her core. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, their lips hovered just a breadth apart from one another. A slight tilt against his head and their mouths would be completely against it other, depending on the degree to which she reclined her head.
Madison knew that he thought she was Lawrence’s mistress. He stated as much when he shouted at her in the hallway, after she had grabbed his thigh at the dinner table. She pondered, briefly, if he had imagined them together in his anger, in his jealousy. The thought, too, made her wonder if he had taken any lovers since returning to his position as the heir to Northam. Fear pulsed in her heart. Had his lips, his perfect mouth, taken those of another woman – whether to drown his grief or satisfy a need?
“And have you been studying, Commander?” Brunette head tilted backwards slightly and their lips brushed, touching briefly as she formed the words. Not quite a kiss, but ready to deepen at a second’s notice. “Have you practiced since your last lesson?” No jealousy laced her tone and no malice comprised the syllables of his title. Curiosity hung between their mouths. Left hand slipped between his jacket and his shirt, dancing up his side. Seductive fingers slowly drew up the length of each of his that hung at his side, fingertips burning at the contact.
“Or do you need a refresher?”
The clear morning had been a short reprieve from the harsh moods of the extreme winter season. Positioned as it was between the shoreline to the east and the peaks and valleys of the west, Thebes endured its fair share of perilous winter weather—and it could be just as dangerous as the blizzards that brewed in the mountains. As land and sea fought against one another, it was impossible to predict what the merciless Mother Nature might throw their way…and Northam’s capital city seemed caught in the crossfire yet again. A small price to pay for its strategic location.
Yet in spite of the tall shelves and the finery and the city that surrounded them, Remy’s mind was hundreds of miles away, buried in the drifts between towering crags. Stone walls became rough-hewn logs; the sheen of electric sconces faded to the steady orange glow of an oil lamp near a dusty bed; and the books lining stately shelves were traded for disorderly stacks unloaded from old storage boxes. And as the storm ramped up its white assault against the windowpanes, Remy’s racing heartbeat joined the fierce howl of the wind outside.
Electricity traced fractal patterns across his skin as her hands slipped between his layers of clothing and caressed his sides, the muscles of his torso quaking with pleasure beneath her touch. Her mouth brushed his—featherlight and teasing, and enough to make his breath audibly catch in his throat. His lashes nearly swept against the huntress’ as they fluttered closed. The gesture was so delicate, so loaded with feeling, that Remy resisted conceding to the temptation of a proper kiss; instead, he prolonged the charged moment, drawing out the seconds as if willing time itself to slow. As if willing it to rewind.
The physician drank her in before he answered her questions, waves of contentment and sorrow washing over him in equal measure. He sensed the curiosity at the root of her queries, if not the apprehension; if she had found a lover since their parting, then perhaps it meant he, too, had introduced others to his bed. He brought his hand to her neck, tracing an abstract pattern from her ear to her spine and back again. “I wouldn’t object to a refresher,” he breathed, her deft touch coaxing a shudder. A purposeful non-answer to the huntress’ veiled inquisitions. But rather than allow her time to press the touchy topic further, he whispered, “Does this ring any bells?”
And then he kissed her.
Gently. Slowly. His lips parted against hers as his callused hands found the curve of her waist. With an accelerating fervency, he deepened the kiss. The warmth of their smoldering fire burned across his hips, igniting every cell down to his bones in a blaze of need.
He pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes. “I can’t remember what comes next,” he murmured, the intended humor of his statement overshadowed by the gleam of hunger in his stormy gaze. “I might need a demonstration.”
Bells echoed in her head the moment his lips captured hers. Warmth slid over her entire body, traversing from the delightful taste at her mouth to the tips of her toes. With no coaxing, she slid her body against his at the pressure of his hands against her waist. The budding heat in the pit of her stomach grew with each movement of his lips. Eager hands gripped the sides of his shirt beneath his jacket, holding him tightly against her. With each moment, Madison let her doubt slip away into the dark recesses of her mind. It would surely come roaring back to life the second she was alone, but for now it was the huntress and the physician. The absence of his mouth was keenly felt and she swallowing the groan of protest before it could escape. The sound, in her mind, might give away how desperately she ached for him.
His words, however, did the trick and she hummed low in her throat. A delighted smirk danced on her face as she began to walk him backwards, slowly. Each step she took, she gave him a fleeting kiss. The back of his legs hit the seat of a large, high-backed chair. Madison stopped them there with a deep, aching kiss. Hands coarsed over his chest, up and under the woolen outerwear as she rounded over his shoulders. She freed him from his jacket, letting it fall to the ground with an audible think, reminiscent of the robes from the Grafton Inn.
The tour guide all but threw herself against him, bracing her weight with her knees on either side of his legs as they sank back into the crimson cushion. Immediately, frantic fingers tangled in his hair and she kissed him along his jaw, up to his ear. “Is this helping your failing memory, professor?” The words came out in a hot breath, full of heady anticipation at where their dalliance might lead. Mouth trailed along his neck, the stubble of his cheeks tickling her skin. Eager fingers undid the top two buttons of his cobalt shirt so that she could taste the skin at the crook of his neck and then the well above his sternum. Muscles rippled beneath her lips as she tasted skin she never thought she would again.
Lights flickered along the walls, followed by a rumble of thunder outside. Bright blue eyes cast their gaze up casually, rising from her lowered position. Madison reclined her weight on his legs, heart pounding against her ribs. The electricity pulsed again, and not just between the pair of intermittent lovers. “Now, what comes next...” Desire wrapped itself around her words and burned hotly in her gaze. She squeezed her legs against his and her hands pressed on either side of his face as she tilted his head up towards hers.
In the days since his return to Thebes, Remy had hardly been able to take a breath. Between his puppetmaster of a father tugging at his strings, the newfound realities of his life and routine, and the emotional distress of finding himself alone after betraying the only person he loved in the world, the physician had been running on a cocktail of uncertainty and adrenaline for far too long. Even his fitful sleep was plagued by stress dreams and nightmares, haunted by his own mistakes as well as the legacy of his unfortunate bloodline. He would have given almost anything in exchange for a moment of real peace.
But this…perhaps it wasn’t peace he needed, but solace. The rush that came with Madison’s proximity—it was not fear that spurred the racing of his blood now. No, his senses were ablaze with her, sharpened to a hyperfocused vignette of the feel of her hungry lips, her lithe figure, her sensuous touch. This was an excitement he welcomed. After nearly a year of endlessly enduring one minute to the next, numbed to the constant apprehension, a shell of the man he had once known himself to be…he felt alive again in her arms. And, perhaps even more profound, he did not feel alone. The huntress remained, as she had always been, the beacon of light that cut through his turbulent storm; she pulled him through the deluge to the solid safety of her shores. Even now, when everything felt so dire, so impossible, it was Madison who brought him back to life.
Ardent kisses alternated with reversed steps as the huntress steadily steered the physician from their place in the stacks, stopping only when his legs wedged against the plush upholstery of a crimson wingback armchair. His jacket fell to the floor in a puddle of charcoal wool as Madison edged the garment from his shoulders. Sinking back together into the plump cushions, he eased her against him, the shapes of their bodies snapping together as though they’d never been parted.
Her fingers glided over his heaving chest and up to tangle in his hair, which drew a low hum from deep in his throat. “Once a star pupil,” he growled against her mouth, “always a star pupil.” He pulled back just enough to deposit a trail of kisses along her jaw as she unfastened the buttons at his collarbones. His hands sought the warm sliver of skin between her sweater and the waistband of her pants, slipping beneath the knit hemline to caress the length of her back unimpeded.
The snarl of thunder drew his eyes upward to the library’s glass dome, and the uneven flicker of the electric sconces flashed in Madison’s azure eyes like golden lightning. With his hands still on the bare skin of her waist, the doctor pulled her tightly toward him as he sat up straighter, uniting their torsos as her palms cradled his face. His eyes narrowed with wanton mirth. “We could see just how well you remember your anatomy,” he murmured suggestively, sliding his hands higher on her ribcage. He parted his lips, mouth hovering just a hair’s breadth from her own. “There are a few more—”
The thought halted on his tongue as the library door rattled suddenly in its frame. Remy froze. A knock, three abrupt raps, punctuated the silence. A muffled voice on the other side called, “Commander, sir? Miss Sterling?”
And Remy, in spite of everything, felt his mouth curl into a grin as he met Madison’s gaze. He wrapped his arms around the huntress and tugged her into a firm embrace, remembering her past frustrations at their dalliances being so rudely interrupted. Thankfully, though, she'd had the good sense to engage the lock. “Did you tell Mrs. Grafton we were here?” he whispered, nipping gently at her earlobe.
The insinuating sentence made her shiver with anticipation, heat suffusing every single nerve inside her body. After all this time together, Madison was still surprised by the way her could use simple words to ignite an inferno of need inside of her. Warm, coaxing fingers left goose flesh along her ribs and she knew that he could feel her nearly panting breaths. Giving into this would be the best she had felt in a year. Being with him again, feeling his body working in tandem with hers. The hot breath of his next words rushed across her face and she longed for him to take her.
Three raps on the large oaken doors startled her from her lascivious thoughts and the huntress was unable to suppress a rough exhale of irritation. What sexual being had she insulted to result in her escapades being consistently interrupted at inopportune moments? The delicate voice that punctuated the empty library was Alice’s. Madison was drawn back to the multitude of interruptions caused by the gracious Mrs. Grafton. How many words of frustration had she muttered against his mouth in the comfort of their large bedroom? And that damned grin. All of her insides turned upside down at the sight of that amused smirk when he met her eyes and the way he tugged her closer to him, unwilling to let this ruin their plans. “I believe I have been cursed.” She exhaled between them, thrilling at the added layer of intrigue the servant’s presence had brought.
“Yes, Alice?” The tour guide called back, keeping her tone neutral as Remy’s teeth found the tender part of her ear. Blue eyes closed into the sensation and a soft hum vibrated through her. His hands kept roaming, teasing her as he knew she had to attempt to focus on holding a conversation through a locked door. In response, she tugged firmly on his hair with one hand, tilting his head back as she barely brushed his lips. Two could play this devilish game.
“The door is locked, Miss,” confusion laced the words, “and I have news for the Commander.” Her voice shook as she spoke, clearly fearing some retribution at not delivering the information promptly. As she spoke, Madison’s mouth traveled down his neck while her hands roamed to his chest.
“I must have flipped the latch when we entered.” She kept her tone flippant, as if it was no consequence. “You know how heavy that door can be. We’ll head back momentarily. The Commander has found Lawrence’s collection to be...enticing.” Fingers undid another few buttons so she could explore the new, hard planes of his chest. The muscles beneath her fingers were astonishing. Madison had always found him attractive, in all his lean harsh lines and knowledgeable fingertips. Now, she held a new appreciation for the physical exertions and hearty food Thebes provided him. She found herself imagining how it all looked, despite the fact that another woman hovered anxiously outside the door.
“I just want to relay the message, if I may, Miss.” The words came out laced with a hurried anxiety. The sconces flickered extensively, mimicking the rapid fluttering of her heart. It was Remy’s turn to respond to the poor girl and Madison smiled wickedly at him, eyes glimmering and flashing in the flicking electric lights. The storm in his gaze was one of hazy desire and she allowed herself to fall into it.
“Put the poor girl out of her misery,” the temptress lowered her mouth to his ear as she whispered, “Commander.” Her tongue lightly traced the curve of his earlobe as she nipped it playfully before her hands explored all the way to his waistline.
At that, Remy tightened his embrace. “And which ‘poor girl’ are you talking about, exactly?” he murmured, the lascivious inquiry humming low in his throat. A shiver rocketed down his spine as her breath tickled his ear, and he retaliated by pressing his lips to the gentle ridge of her collarbone. The gesture elicited an audible rush of breath from the huntress’ lungs, and he smirked against her flesh.
Nevertheless, the servant girl’s nervous energy seemed to permeate the air despite the barrier between them, and the physician extricated himself from Madison just far enough to call toward the door. “I will be with you momentarily,” he said, his tone neutral but firm. He met Madison’s eyes as the electric lights surged again, flashing off and on again in three quick bursts. The expression he found in her half-lidded gaze sent a desirous thrill through him, and he leaned forward, parted mouth hovering just inches from hers. He did not look away or move back when he continued, projecting, “I’m just wrapping up an important chapter.”
“Very well, sir,” came the unsure response, the distant voice nearly drowned out by a vicious howl of wind.
Remy moved to close the gap between himself and his huntress, but diverted the path of his kisses from Madison’s mouth to her jaw. He followed a gradual descending trail that wound from her neck to her sternum and then plunged down the deep vertex of her sweater neckline. The warmth of her flushed skin was maddening against his lips. “To be continued,” he murmured against her before he wrapped both arms tightly around her waist, hoisting her up with him as he rose to his feet. She gripped his torso with her legs, and the arms she wrapped around her neck brought their faces close together once more.
He kissed her again, slower this time—an impassioned burn that betrayed the immensity of his yearning, of his affection, of his desire—and then lowered her to her feet before him. He looked down at himself and bit back a chuckle; to answer the door in this state would be something indeed. A pang of guilt raced through him. As much as he disliked Lawrence, it was the Terril man who was being wronged here; Remy’s history with the huntress did not negate the fact that Lawrence was her beau.
Nevertheless, a half-smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. With his buttons undone nearly to his navel, his jacket in a heap on the rug, and his honey-brown hair a disheveled mess, he was a perfect caricature of their clandestine tryst.
As if shorted by the electric heat between the former lovers, the lights pulsed yet again. His half-smile broadened as he ran his fingers through his unruly tresses. He reached to refasten his shirt, doing up the buttons slowly, teasingly. With mirth quirking a brow, he unbuckled his belt and made a show of tucking his mussed shirt into place. When his jacket was securely back on his shoulders, and his appearance deemed acceptable by the discerning huntress, he slid the lock open and swung open the heavy door.
Alice stiffened, averting her gaze as soon as she met his and bowing her head in anxious reverence. “Commander,” she said urgently, extending a circular bronze tray that held a thrice-folded note, a flat blank page, and a fountain pen. “There has been a radio transmission from Wymberly, sir.”
Her attention shifted past the physician to settle on Madison behind him, and Remy could have sworn he detected a glimmer of relief in her eyes. His throat tightened as once again, the realities of the world beyond the private sanctuary of the library swept out his footing like a sleeper wave. A single iron lock had been all that separated Dr. Remy Sterling from Commander Gregoray Walther II, and the whiplash left him reeling. He cleared his throat and offered Alice a small smile, taking the tray from her hands.
“I—I was told they are expecting a response soon. Sir.”
“Of course,” Remy said pleasantly despite the sudden hollowness in his chest.
He turned back to the library, meeting Madison’s gaze before he returned to the scarlet armchair that had witnessed their amorous affair. The note had been transcribed on a typewriter by the Terrils’ radio attendant, the shorthand staunchly direct.
Attn: Cmdr. Walther
Inclement weather protocol activated. Schedule postponed until further notice. Shelter in place until a.m., or conclusion of storm. Wymberly secure. I will oversee shift change as discussed. Please advise.
Signed: Gnl. Belvedere
Shelter in place. Remy’s heart leapt even as his stomach plummeted. He glanced to Madison, his head filled suddenly with a montage of lips and skin and sweat and pleasure—but also with frustration and sadness. He had anticipated departing the Terril estate that afternoon with nothing more than the heated memories of their illicit exchanges, making a clean break from a past that was not destined to be a future. But this? Prolonging the inevitable? A lingering ache now tainted the excitement.
He supposed he had the power to override Quinn’s orders and leave anyway, but venturing into whiteout conditions in such an ill-equipped state would be foolish. Not to mention that he would be risking the safety of his men. He read the note again, eyes snagging on I will oversee shift change as discussed. What shift change was Belvedere talking about? They hadn't discussed anything recently except...
Realization quickly dawned. Wymberly secure. A coded reference to the previous night’s attack, and to Quinn’s injury…a dressing change. Of course. Remy brandished the fountain pen, which rendered his tight cursive a rich burgundy against the ecru sheet.
Attn: Gnl. Belvedere
Message received; will re-evaluate conditions in a.m.
Re: shift change—imperative to maintain pressure with incoming personnel. Do not go easy.
Signed: Cmdr. Walther
Neither the Terrils' radio technician nor anyone else who might intercept the transmission would bat an eye at the message, especially considering its source. But Remy was painfully aware of how it sounded, and what potential cruelties a prying audience might presume of his "advice."
Inwardly, the physician grimaced. Quinn had let him in on his deadly secret, and Remy knew the most important thing was to uphold the illusion of status quo. Worry over his unlikely ally began to root in his mind. But Belvedere was smart; he may not have been a doctor, but he knew how to tend to a wound, and he would understand the hidden instructions. As long as the bleeding had calmed…
Remy revived the pleasant expression on his face as he folded his note, and he rose to pass it to Alice. She paused, as if steeling herself to say something more. “Your room is being prepared as we speak, sir,” she reported breathily. “Your horses are being tended to in the stables.”
Remy fought the urge to glance to Madison. “And my men?” he asked, referring to the two guards who had accompanied him to the estate and had waited with the Terril staff.
“Dining with our staff at present. Anything you need, sir, you simply must ask.” The servant looked to the huntress. “Miss Sterling,” she addressed, clearly more comfortable speaking to Madison. “Masters Lawrence and Elora regret that they are unable to return home until the storm subsides. They will send word when the roads become passable. If you will excuse me, Commander, sir…” She held up Remy’s folded note. “I must get this to Jaymes to transmit before the storm worsens.”
Remy turned to Madison as Alice disappeared down the dim corridor. He hovered in the broad doorway, as if torn between re-entering their literary sanctuary and keeping his distance. But as soon as his thoughts strayed, his body naturally gave in to her magnetic pull, and he stepped closer, ever closer. “What luck we have,” he murmured, and it was unclear whether his statement was meant to be acerbic, or a genuine commentary on their fortune. “Snowed in.”
The tantalizing trail of his hot mouth down the length of her sternum resulted in the arching of her back, held securely in place by the doctor’s splayed hand between her shoulder blades. Madison’s eyes closed and her neck fell back slightly, savoring the feel of something she had dreamt about consistently over the agonizing last year. This girl momentarily forgot, in the frenzy of her lust, that Alice hovered anxiously behind the large library door. All of her focus attempted to narrow onto the doctor and the doctor alone. If only this chapter would never end and they wouldn’t have to return to the reality that she was betrayed and he was duty-bound.
“It better be.” Came her hungry response, unwilling to let their illicit affair end now, unfulfilled. Before she could lift herself from his lap, strong arms wrapped around her waist. In response, she tightened her legs around him, hands winding around his neck. Their mouths hovered millimeters apart at the embrace and breath hitched in her throat. The kiss was a promise between the lovers, but also a potential parting. Alice could be delivering an unfortunate missive that would summon the Commander back to Wymberly, back to his father’s domain and far away from the privacy of their library - as it would always be burned into her mind as from this moment forward. Finding her feet beneath her, she straightened her sweater, feeling the cool air against the space between her breasts where his mouth had recently been. Deft hands easily replaited her mussed hair but slowed as he made an obvious show of composing himself. The huntress was unable to stop herself from allowing her lascivious gaze to fall on the unbuckled belt as he tucked his shirt back in. “You’re ruining all my hard work.” She whispered into the tension between them.
Miss Sterling met Alice’s worried golden gaze as the door opened wide and nodded slightly. The servant was clearly worried about what the Commander of Northam had been doing to Lawrence Terril’s mistress. Every single one of them had heard about him taking her into the abandoned hallway. Every servant had heard her sobs that night and nearly every night after. Quickly, the dark-haired maid looked the tour guide over for any signs of bleeding, bruising or pain. Madison made a small gesture with her hand at her side. I’m fine. But she wasn’t. She was infuriated that they had been interrupted on the path that they were traveling, because part of her knew once it was paused that it might not pick up where it left off. Despite his heated promise from the comfort of the crimson chair, a small fear that she wouldn’t get to touch him again crept up inside of her. Fear overwhelmed the anger, the hurt, the betrayal. What if she never held him again? What if she never ran her fingers through his honeyed hair? What if she never heard him say that he loved her again, and told him in kind? What if his hands never traveled down her side and teased that small ticklish place just above her left hip- the one that left her equally annoyed and thrilled by his attempts?
Observant cerulean eyes flickered over his back and then his downcast face as he scribbled a response. She realized then that she had never seen him write like that. The doctor had written missives in the snow for her practice. He had scribbled words on her skin. Now. But she had never seen him write so fluidly. There had never been a need. Then it dawned on her, as she watched him fold the reply and rise from his position, that he had never seen her handwriting. The still slowly executed letters, curling together with infrequent pen-lifts, as Madison preferred writing in cursive. She had spent countless hours practicing the sheets given to her until it was nearly perfect. Wondering what he would think of a letter she would write him, the huntress’ thoughts were interrupted by Alice’s words. His rooms.
Brunette head whipped towards the door, startled. His rooms. He was staying? Anxiety crept in at the thought of another meal with the Terrils and the Commander of Northam. So fraught with the emotion, she didn’t hear their exchange until Alice’s gentle voice said her name. Relief washed over her before mingling with concern. Bright eyes cast upwards at the glass dome that was now almost covered with white. “Thank you, Alice. Please make sure the Commander has a variety of Lawrence’s clothes to choose from out of our bedroom.” The huntress was careful enough to maintain the ruse of her status as mistress in the presence of company - even if she longed to tell him that no one had ever touched her as he had, there was no one for her but him. Always. Forever. Even after his betrayal, though she would never be able to forgive him, she would never take another lover.
Madison drank him in, bathed in the bright light from the hallways. The desire returned to her eyes, but also trepidation at being alone together for so long. But a night together....another night in his arms. Suddenly, everything was too hot, too much. Anxiety wrapped it’s suffocating tendrils around her, speeding the rate of her heart and thickening the air in her lungs. But like a blanket, his cool demeanor laid over her and she sighed into it. “Snowed in.” She echoed, taking a step towards him, not yet reaching out. “Alone.” The moment hung there and she tilted her chin up to bring their faces closer.
“Whatever shall we do to occupy your time here, Commander Walther?” It was the first time she had said his last name, his true last name. It felt odd on her tongue and surprisingly not as unpleasant as she thought it would be. “Would you like to continue your tour?” She smiled, that same devious grin she used before drawing him into their large bed at the Grafton’s. “Or would you prefer to finish that book you were reading?”
Remy paused, caught suddenly between her magnetic pull beckoning him forward and his own uncertainty tugging him back. The library had darkened as thick snow shrouded the glass dome above, the warm glow of the electric lights giving the impression of nightfall in the middle of the afternoon. Madison’s eyes gleamed in the soft light as he met her gaze, her expression a mirror of his own abrupt trepidation. It was as though each of their interactions required beginning anew, an endless series of fresh starts complete with all the doubt and the jitters and the excitement of the first time all over again.
The interruption of their heated exchange had managed to do two things at once—to restring the tension in the solitude they now resumed, and to fan the flames of their desirous attraction to one another. They took alternating steps forward until the gap between them closed. Madison’s voice was uncharacteristically timid when she echoed his commentary on the storm, prompting his heart to flutter with his own recharged nerves. She angled her face upward, shadows shifting over her high cheekbones as the lights continued their irregular flickers. “Alone,” he repeated in confirmation, casting a glance to the library door, which remained half-open on its iron hinges.
Daringly, he reached up to cradle the side of her face. After living for months in a constant state of anxiety, guarding and measuring every expression, every word, every gesture, every breath, an intoxicating thrill rocketed through him at the prospect of doing precisely what he wanted—without pretense, without donning some manner of disguise, without hiding. Because despite the wretched name that her lovely lips formed, he would never be anyone but Dr. Remy Sterling when he stood before her. He didn’t have to pretend. For all his faults and mistakes and regrets, he refused to apologize for who he had been—who he had tried to be.
In truth, the knowledge that a member of the Terril staff could emerge in the doorway at any moment sent a thrill through Remy that, in this state of heightened bliss, made him feel untouchable—a perk obviously afforded by his rank and name, but one he had never truly known until now. Ironic, that the sensation happened when he felt the most like Dr. Sterling.
The emboldened physician leaned closer, their faces just inches apart. Nevertheless, the sound of her sultry voice forming the syllables of his—no, his father’s—last name was a blow to the gut. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he whispered, but there was only longing in his voice, in his stormy eyes. His belly fluttered with nervous excitement in spite of it, brushing a finger along the length of her cheek to the cut of her jawline. His fingertips curled beneath her chin, holding it steady as he tenderly closed the space between their mouths in a fleeting, featherlight kiss—
And the cavernous library plunged into muted darkness.
He pulled away, startled from his bold reverie as though they’d been caught, and whirled to face the door. But no one hovered at the threshold; no shocked or disapproving eyes met his as he searched the opening for a presence. Relief flooded his system as they stood together in the shadows. “Hard to read in lighting like this,” he jested, the glint in his eyes betraying his hunger. “Maybe we should...light a fire?”
In the absence of the faint, omnipresent drone of electricity, the roar of the blizzard outside made the walls of the estate feel far thinner than hefty stone. Memories of their cabin rushed back in a torrent of bittersweet images. Without thinking, his hand moved to take hers, as if her presence could pull him from the current and plant him back on solid ground. But the moment their fingers brushed, a faint beam of light cut through the partially-open door, growing in intensity with the sound of urgent footsteps on the marble.
He withdrew his grasp hurriedly and stepped away just as Alice appeared, two oil lamps in hand. “Commander,” she panted, “Miss Sterling.” Once again, her gaze swept to Madison with distrust. The dark-haired maid placed the larger of the two lamps on the nearest table. “The electric service has been interrupted. Apologies, Commander…” Despite the dimness, the wariness in her eyes was obvious as she glanced to, and then immediately away from, Remy. “We will keep you apprised of the situation.”
At the beginning, just after his return to Thebes, Remy might have tried to reassure her that no apologies were necessary for forces beyond any human’s control…but it was a futile effort, he soon learned. And, at least for the staff at Wymberly, made the workers far more uncomfortable than simply nodding and agreeing. He offered Alice a friendly smile. “Thank you,” he said, turning to trade looks with Madison. “Perhaps a fire?” he suggested. “Since it seems a perfect afternoon for finishing that book.”
Madison stood in all her lean grace before him with heady anticipation filling her as she awaited his response. There was only one answer she wanted to hear from his soft lips and she willed him to utter the words that would allow her to dissolve into him. They would fold together like two pieces of paper crafted into one seamless origami art. His soft request, his ardent wish, made her heart skip a beat, turning from a pounding warhammer to a fluttering butterfly against her ribcage. Had she ruined their moment with his name, with who he truly was? Tight cords formed in her throat, making the effort to swallow all the more uncomfortable. Yet, his fingers tugged delicately at her. Him as cerulean gaze darted to the half open door behind the physician. Excitement swept through her, enhanced by the idea that they might be caught, that someone might see them. Heat raced across her hipbones as he finally lowered his head to hers.
Jumping suddenly in the immediate darkness that surrounded them, a worried expression danced across her face before realization dawned. The electricity had gone out. Madison had not been without its constant hum since she had arrived at the Terril estate all those long months ago. It surprised her how quickly she had grown used to the luxury of lights at the tips of her fingers. His comment made her laugh, suddenly, due to the surprise of it all. The melody of her giggle was soft, held between them like a thread. “It would be very difficult to read, though I might find another way that I could entertain you.” She said, the banter coming back as easily as though the last year did not exist.
Tenderly, his hand brushed hers and the movement reminded her of the way he had been after they discovered the other Donaldson twin. He was lost within himself, being drawn somewhere he did not quite want to go. An ache rooted inside of her and she turned her fingers to accept his own, to pull him back to now. “Come to me.” She whispered, softly, just as light began to fill the room and Alice entered through the parted door.
The huntress felt the anxious gaze fall on her again so she smiled. A longing to reveal that he would never harm her physically bubbled up, only to be squashed back down. Instead, she readily agreed. “A fire would be perfect. And perhaps you could bring in my chess set - the one that Elora gave me for my birthday.” The comment was made offhandedly, merely to described which one she wanted. Instead, she had inadvertently revealed that she had celebrated the occasion with the Terrils. The exact date of her birth was unknown and unimportant but her parents had always celebrated it at the summer solstice. Elora had quickly informed her that it was not a single day every year and changed slightly. Madison had shrugged, having not celebrated the affair in nearly a decade. On June 21, she had awakened to the goddess gliding into her room with a beautiful box wrapped in brown paper and tied with purple ribbon. Inside had been a chess set, elegant and simple at the same time with smooth pieces of white marble and deep onyx.
“A bottle of wine too, Alice. Perhaps one of the Cabernets from 2020.” The maid nodded, leaving one lamp and taking the other with her to traverse the long dark hallway. Alone again, with the sound of retreating footsteps carrying the frantic servant down the hallway to complete the instructions. The newness of the solitude started them all over again. It was an awkwardness that she might never feel again, that wary trepidation that if she moved or said the wrong thing he might magically disappear like a wisp in the wind. It would take Alice a moment to procure what they had asked for, especially in the darkness of the expansive wine cellar. She studied him in the lamplight, bright blues amongst stormy grays swirling in his eyes. Drowning in his gaze, her lips parts to say something and then pressed firmly together again. Everything hovered, frozen, in the tenuous moment they were alone once more.
“It reminds me of the cabin.” The words exited her mouth before she could stop them. She clarified, softly, almost inaudible. “This storm.”
Without the continuous buzz of electricity coursing through the wiring of the Terril estate, a soft quiet descended over the library like a blanket. Remy’s ears rang in the fresh silence as Alice’s footfalls faded down the corridor. The calm amongst the loaded shelves belied both the raging weather outside and the emotional heat that sizzled between the former lovers, and the physician realized, to his surprise, that the perpetual tension in his muscles had evaporated.
Yet he was not exactly relaxed; no, he still felt as though he was treading on proverbial eggshells—sharp, dangerous ground that left him teetering between Madison’s wrath reignited, and his own long list of regrets. But the syrupy warmth of nostalgia wrapped around him like an embrace, not only at her words—the cabin—but at the situation in which they now found themselves. Its familiarity was startling in a thrilling way, one that rocketed him back in time with the same intensity that it used to emphasize the present moment. And whether fate sought to gift them this extra time out of compassion, or simply to heighten the ache of their eventual separation, Remy was ready to accept the consequences. A strike of lightning straight to his heart, illuminating and violent, beautiful and painful.
“Come here,” he said quietly, repeating the same command she’d uttered just before Alice had interrupted them. A dark, aching hunger flickered in his eyes with the steady flame of the oil lamp, not so unlike the one he had once lit, and then dimmed, in the loft of their cabin. He took the huntress in his arms, clasping his hands behind her lower back and drawing her tightly, insistently, against him. Bowing his head so it hovered near her ear, his voice was soft and low, just above a whisper as it reverberated from his chest. “I’m thinking of a lot more than just the storm right now…”
He tilted his head until his lips brushed the top curve of her ear, eyelids fluttering closed as the perfume of lavender on her hair enveloped him in a cloud of remembrance so thick he nearly forgot where he was. As if to further disorient him, the wild let loose a wild howl that shook the windows in their muntin bars. He smiled against her ear and pressed his cheek to her hair. “I remember when you cut my hair,” he murmured, one hand moving slowly up her back.
“I remember when you first called me a roadwalker,” Remy continued, “and I remember when it stopped being an insult.” Pressing his lips softly to her hair, he drew a long breath to go on. “I remember when I first realized that being near you felt like home.” If she couldn’t hear the rapid percussion of his heart, then surely she could feel it. And he wanted her to. He needed her to know that he’d meant every word he ever said, every promise he’d ever vowed. “I remember your first reading lesson.” Heat bloomed behind his ribs and spread down every limb. His hands roamed once more, one cradling her waist while the other brushed the back of her slender neck.
“I remember when I nearly lost you,” he went on, his voice hardly a breath. He pressed her closer, savoring the maddening swelter of her body even through their clothes. “And I remember when you came back to me.” Another gust of wind whipped against steadfast stone walls, and a soft shudder quaked his shoulders. But all Remy could feel was heat—searing, affectionate heat that threatened to devour him, for better or for worse, and reminded him that she was alive…that they were alive, in spite of everything. Even if it rendered him to ash, he wouldn’t lament a single memory.
Moving his head back, he searched for the reassuring blue of her stare. “And I remember,” he drawled huskily, peering through half-lidded eyes, “when you first told me you loved me.” Their lips were close, near enough to touch should Madison incline her head. “And how I’d longed to tell you the very same thing for a very long time.”
Madison slipped into his arms without a second’s hesitation. A shiver rocketed down her spine and she made a soft noise in her throat at his words. Every molecule inside of her body began to vibrate with anticipation and acknowledged desire. He was thinking of all the same things that she was, all the memories that they made together from their first moment inside those wooden walls. They had built a little life together there and so much transpired inside during their time. That was where they admitted their love and dove head first into it. And now, oh now, he was taking her on walk through their memories.
“Mmmm, it needed a trim.” She smiled, closing her eyes at the sensation of his hand moving slowly up the curve of her back. She recalled the long mess of locks that hung down his neck and how silky it had first felt between her fingers. Madison’s own hands slid between the jacket and his shirt, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath her fingertips. A thrill shot through her, igniting new spots of desire inside of her, only for the reason that he had the same rapid beat as hers. Two halves of one whole. Together. Forever. Always.
Reading Lessons.
The best instruction she had ever had. The huntress had never learned so much and so little at the same time. Every syllable the doctor uttered was kerosene thrown on the blazing inferno of her need, higher and higher until she feared she would be reduced to ash. A blaze of want flickered in her eyes and it was not just for his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin. It was for that cabin, for a time when everything was far simpler and all that mattered, all she thought about was how, when he would fulfill all his husky promises. Eyes fluttered opened when he withdrew slightly. Questions hung in her eyes as he said what she feared and what she had wanted him to say. Madison knew she was a walking contradiction, a terrible hypocrite.
Incline her head she did. Angling her neck up, she grabbed his mouth with hers and his shirt in her fists. Love exploded in her chest and she hated it, she hated how much his words could change her mind. She had promised to hate him until she died, for what he had done to her. She had sworn she’d never let him touch her again. And here she was, a lump of clay in his hands, ready to become whatever he needed, whatever she needed to be in order to have him, if only for one more day. Tomorrow, tomorrow she could be angry again.
The entire length of her body heated, fueled by the waves of hot desire wafted off of him. Lips devoured his, tasting him, savoring him as he had once done to her. Slender fingers released his crumpled cobalt shirt and found his neck and his hair. “Do you remember, roadwalker,” she began, forming the words hungrily against his mouth, between kisses and nips, “when I asked you to take me to bed?” Madison tore her mouth from his, panting heavily and not attempting to hide it in any way. Lascivious gaze flickered over his face, searching it until she found the craving in his eyes intensified. Like called to like.
“I almost told you then.” I almost told you then, my love. Because I love you and I want to love you, to show you I love you, to make love to you.
Remy’s blood was molten in his veins, an inferno consuming him from the inside out. A desirous hum growled low in his throat, reverberating in his chest, a husky and wordless confirmation that he, too, recalled the precise moment she had first asked him to take her to bed. The specific cadence of her request, the exact pitch of her voice, the rasping timbre of her tone—he knew it all by heart, permanently stored in his mind in all its plush, dark, agonizing glory.
It would have been a lie to say it was the first time he had replayed that particular scene since they’d been apart; in the desperate loneliness of sleepless nights, he had often returned to the shelter of those rough-hewn walls and the intimate heat of their shared loft. Sometimes he revisited with sorrow, sometimes with lust, but always with a yearning that stole breath from his lungs and left his soul straining across miles for its mate.
The pressure of her hands against his torso, his chest, was enough to elicit a ragged exhale that rivaled the wind outside. Her mouth captured his again, and he deepened the kiss with ravenous lips that parted readily as their breaths mingled. Gone was the worry that had flared with the dousing of the electricity, replaced again with the stimulating thrill of possible discovery by someone who might happen through the unlocked door. Because wasn’t this how it should be? Wasn’t this the truth, a reality in which two kindred spirits had claimed one another against all odds in a world committed to suffering?
He broke away from her mouth and brought his lips back to where her jaw met her neck, scruff gently brushing her silky skin. But her continued speech drew him back to meet her gaze, and he parted from her flesh reluctantly…until he caught the fire in her expression. “I believe my response was,” he whispered, moving in as if to kiss her, but stopping just a hair’s breadth before they touched, “that I would savor you.”
The words that his tongue formed summoned an explosion of electric heat through every firing nerve, but he did not close the distance between their mouths. Instead, he trailed a finger slowly down her flushed chest, drawing a straight line between her breasts until his touch snagged on the vertex of her plunging neckline. “Every part of you,” he breathed, the follow-up barely audible against the hammer of his pulse.
I want all of you. Now. And always. I meant every word, every promise. The thoughts, though unspoken, fanned flames that already burned too bright, too hot. But he couldn’t relinquish his grasp, couldn’t extricate himself from the blazing, amorous firestorm that was Madison Gallow—not in this moment, in the cavernous darkness of the Terril library, and certainly not in the grand, wicked scheme of their entwined lives. The huntress was the only one for whom he burned; as long as he walked the earth, there could never be another.
“Kiss me, Madison Gallow,” he whispered instead, muscled chest heaving against the syllables. The urgency of his command was as much a testament to his need as it was poignant acknowledgment that they may never get another chance. “Kiss me...” And his other hand, still on her back, spelled out three familiar letters across her spine: N. O. W.
The rumble of his pleasure vibrated across her chest and she recalled the precise feel of the way he growled her name, skin to skin, tangled in sweat and sheets. The recollection of that precise moment in the cabin loft, surrounding by a howling snowstorm and the warmth of his body. Their lesson long abandoned like the book at the edge of the mattress. Madison’s headed tilted to accept the lips he denied her. Unable to stop herself, a low guttural noise escaped her. Brilliant eyes found his stormy ones in the small space between them and widened at the movement of his finger between her breasts. Gooseflesh erupted in a precise trail where his warm skin had touched her aching flesh. Remy Sterling was a violent hurricane snd she knew if she did not stop now that she would drown here, lost inside of his tumultuous waves forever.
There was nowhere else she rather be.
His request - no his command - sent shockwaves through her body. She trembled at the words, only to gasp as the delicate brushes of his fingers forming the word that had become their beckon, their promise. Immediately, she longed to kiss him, firmly and ardently and never stop. Instead, she didn’t say a single word. Silence enveloped them as her hands drifted upwards to his shoulders. She pushed off his jacket once more and caught it before it fell. She tossed it, folded in half, to the back of a nearby chair. It landed perfectly as though she had looked before she threw. Instead, she kept her hungry eyes locked in his. Hand returned to his chest and she gently began to push him backwards, directing him to a small alcove beside the door. It remained ajar but the little nook was perfectly out of sight, hidden from view. Thick darkness enveloped them, the oil lamp only providing enough light for her to see his features at close proximity.
As she maneuvered them, her deft fingers made quick work of the buttons of his cobalt shirt. “I will kiss you.” She breathed, as his back met the stack of books in their hidden space. “Here.” A barely-there brush of her lips against his cheek. “And here.” She knew the words, knew the movements as if she had performed them a thousand times in her memory. And she had. Those cold, isolating nights in her room at the top of the stairs were a bit less lonely with the memories to keep her warm and the pleasure she took from their recollection. “And here.” Voice was thick with lust as her mouth captured his. The kiss was the same level of insistent, hungry, as his had been in the cabin. The huntress parted her lips, begging for more. Hands had undone every button of his shirt and traced over his skin. “And here,” she murmured, lips following her hands down his neck, to his collarbone. Teeth grazed his flesh and a thrill shot through her at the sound it elicited from his lips.
The power on the estate may have been lost but there was enough electricity sparking between them to supply all of Thebes. Her fingers strayed further down his exposed chest, mentally counting each rib as she went. As her hands found the waist of his pants, her mouth returned to his ear, rising slightly on her toes to reach. “Then I will slip off your clothing, one piece at a time.” Mouth moved again, traveling down the length of his body with muscles rippling beneath her touch. “Until nothing separates us…” she breathed against his hipbone as the clasp on his belt was undone and she pulled it out of the loops to discard it like trash on the floor. Easily she undid his pants as she reclined back slightly, meeting his gaze through a flutter of lashes. Darkness fueled her as she brushed her lips against the hem of his undergarments and the noise he made was one she had not heard him make before. A smile curled her lips. “And I will savor you,” she hummed, as her hands moved again, running lightly up his inner thigh and across his hips. “I will savor all of you.” Fingers slipped past the elastic of the band just as she heard a tentative voice call out.
“Miss Sterling?” Alice’s voice was just feet away in the opening of the door. The footsteps had been lost to her and she flinched at the sudden intrusion. Fortunately, the maid had enough sense to wait just out in the hallway. Shielded from view in their protected alcove, Madison languidly rose to her feet, fingers teasing as she brought her other hand to his mouth. She covered any protests gently and eyes blazed in the darkness. Stormy gaze met her electric blue one and she bit her lower lip suggestively before clearing her throat.
“Yes Alice. I’m showing the Commander a particular collection here. Would you leave everything on that table to the right?” Madison voice took on a neutral air, soft and polite and not full of the wanton words she had just said to the half-dressed man before her. “I think I’d enjoy starting the fire myself later on. It’s a little too...hot in here right now.” As if to emphasize her point, she ran a hand up his side, purposefully teasing. She could feel the exhalation of hot breath against the fingers that covered his mouth.
“Are you certain, Miss? It would take me no time at all to start it for you.” Nervous energy laced her words and Madison knew what the poor girl thought. She thought that the heir to Northam was taking advantage of her. How mistaken she was.
“Absolutely, Alice.” She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. “I’m quite capable of rousing the flames.”
“Very good mistress.” She started to walk away but the footsteps stopped. “Your men have been given their own accommodations, Commander. If you require anything, please let us know how we can best assist you.”
“Thank you, Alice. I think I am quite capable of taking care of the Commander’s needs for the time being.” With that she removed her hand and replaced it with her mouth, pressing her entire body against his. Opened breeches pressed the undone button against the sliver of skin between her top and her pants, sending a cold flash up her spine. Madison made certain to hear the woman’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. Alone again.
Suddenly, she withdrew from him and severed every connection they had. She hovered within his reach, chest rising snd falling with heavy breaths. The pounding of her heart was rapid and wild. Turbulent feelings that he had awakened inside of her were reflected in her aroused gaze, tinged at the edges with so much love she thought her heart would break all over again. She hated that she loved him this much. She hated that she could not quit him and, god, she hated how good it all felt. She allowed her eyes to take him in shadowed in darkness with intermittent lamplight. “Remy....” she breathed, so softly she wasn’t sure if she had said it aloud.
As he had already once declared just hours ago, Madison Gallow would be his undoing. Whether it was self-fulfilling prophecy or simply the inescapable nature of the lovers’ gravitational pull, Remy had already loosed his tenuous grasp on restraint…and promptly found himself careening toward an end that would devastate him with a pleasure as poignant as sorrow.
Yet deep in the bitter solitude of sleepless midnights, moonlight streaming through the frosted windows of his bedroom, not even his most torrid fantasies had managed to burn so fervent, so scalding, so achingly. How many times had he longed for precisely this? How many different scenarios had he played out in his mind, on the occasions he allowed himself the wicked indulgence of hope…of imagining a future where they reunited, contempt thrown to the wind? Reality blasted him like a bolt of white-hot lightning. It was more—better—hotter—than anything he could have possibly concocted alone. And he was ready to melt into the brimstone.
His breath hitched as her hands eased away his jacket, her eyes not once leaving his even as she tossed it to the armchair. His heart slammed against his breastbone, threatening to break from the prison of his ribcage as her hand slid up his chest and guided him slowly backward. His shoulders collided with the bookcase in the alcove, and a shudder rippled his muscles as she pinned him tightly against the shelves. Even in the dense shadows of their hidden refuge, the physician’s gaze was dark with blatant desire; he met her piercing blue stare in the dimness, that very same appetite gleaming through her long lashes, and it was all he could do not to take her mouth with his own.
But Madison was in charge now. Like the story of their history read out loud, the svelte brunette picked up where he had trailed off, her lips alternating between words and kisses as she traced a familiar map down the hard planes of his body. Though this was a tale he already knew by heart, he had yet to experience this particular edition—with an addendum she authored as she moved downward and downward still, her deft hands hastily discarding of his belt and unfastening the fly of his well-tailored pants.
A hum of pleasure tore unbidden from his throat, deep and animalistic. Remy hardly dared look down at her. As her mouth found the chiseled edge of his hip bone, he gripped the edge of the shelf behind him with such trembling force that the books housed there quaked. “Madison,” he pleaded, his voice ragged with need. “I can’t…” But she slipped her fingers behind the stretch waistband of his briefs, the surprising touch igniting an explosion of heat across his pelvis and deep into his core. His shoulders writhed back, chest glistening in the low flickering light.
But as he drew another rasping inhale, Alice’s tentative voice called into the darkness. He froze with sudden panic, and Madison’s hand clamped immediately over his mouth. His eyes widened when they met hers, the storm in his gaze shadowed now with gray uncertainty. But the huntress bit back her uneven breaths and replied with level nonchalance, projecting instructions to the maid as though her lips had not just been devouring the doctor’s only moments before, as if she wasn’t still trailing her fingertips up his naked sides, as if she didn’t have the second most powerful man in Northam pinned against the wall and quivering beneath her touch.
Teasing her right back, he worked his lips against the palm she still held over his mouth. Smoothly, almost lazily, he reached out to hook a finger at the vertex of her sweater’s neckline, shamelessly grazing the underside of her breast as he pulled on the scarlet knitwear. After what seemed like an eternity, the maid’s soft footsteps disappeared back down the corridor whence she’d come, and the excruciating moment of near-discovery transitioned to one of excruciating, unadulterated pleasure.
He could feel the tightly knit strands of his composure begin to unravel, the individual plies of control fraying apart until only straining threads remained. And still Madison’s fingers twisted at the cables, still she unwound him—the insistence of her lips, the persistent hunger of her exploring hands, the relentless press of her body against his.
Their heat resumed with renewed power, despite the fact that she tore herself away—within reach, but nevertheless apart. They studied one another through the shadows, the cadence of their heavy breaths blending with the blustering storm outside. He watched as her chest heaved, as her expression shifted from the amused smirk of fooling Alice to something libidinous and sultry. The space between them only allowed oxygen to fuel their mutual blaze, and all it took was her breathy whisper—Remy—to unleash the storm of his inferno.
He stepped boldly forward at the sound of his name, closing the gap between them, and captured her mouth roughly with his. As their swollen lips connected, he guided her to the wall until it was her back pressing against the towering bookshelves. Kisses trailed along her jaw to the hollow of her neck, and his fingers entwined with hers as he brought her arms up. He pinned each palm against the row of leather-bound spines behind her, then pressed the full length of his body against her own.
It was no sweet exchange between soft, tangled sheets, tender and tentative. This was carnal, this was furious; it was a blistering wildfire marauding as an illicit tryst.
He ground his hips into hers as he relinquished one hand, his freed touch dancing up her crimson sleeves to ease the shoulder of her sweater down her bicep. Insistent fingers caressed the freshly exposed skin of her clavicle—upon which he planted a kiss—and her flushed sternum, upon which he penned its sequel. And he concluded his trilogy with an aching kiss against her breast.
Because he remembered what had come next. He remembered the words he’d spoken, the desperate request that had taken flight from his lips and bound his very soul to hers. Now promise me, Madison, he’d said. Promise me you won’t leave this roadwalker. Promise me you’ll be mine. And in this epilogue, the one in which they lived right now, those vows had dissolved to ash and dissipated on the wind—all thanks to him, and the one piece of him he had failed to give to her.
With his pulse thundering in his ears, he withdrew slightly, hovering near enough to her face that he could make out the faint pattern of freckles across her cheeks. Even with the threat of discovery past, his voice was a coarse whisper. “I want you, Madison,” he murmured, tone thick with arousal, but laced with hesitance. “I want you now, and always…” His lips brushed hers, fleetingly, but did not deepen into a kiss. He stepped back slowly, one hand still entwined with hers. But he released that too, until he stood before her, bare and anguished at the words he knew he needed to speak. “But not like this. It can’t be like this.”
The huntress had not uttered his name as a ploy, had not wielded it as a dagger to wound him. It had come so naturally, so easily. How many times had she whispered his name in the darkness of their Grafton bedroom? How many times had it exploded from her lips as an exclamation of pure, carnal pleasure? Suddenly, his mouth was on hers again and she groaned against his lips. Fingers sought to rid him of the shirt that barely covered him but his hands found hers. He pinned her to the bookcase and a delighted gasp escaped her, lost amongst the panting breaths they took between fervent kisses. Fire raced through her, consuming every single nerve until she burned as hot as she thought possible. The doctor’s mouth trailed her neck and she itched to touch him, though she remained bound by his hands. The tantalizing sensation of feeling him on her and unable to touch him back overwhelmed her. It was a new sensation that oddly thrilled her, to be bound by him and pleasured.
The feel of his hips against hers distracted her from the freedom her hand was suddenly given. Liquid desire flooded her, a deep ache settling between her hipbones. His lips upon her breast made her groan, a guttural sound rumbling from deep within her chest. Lips parted to say his name, to beg him for a release from all the tension that had built up inside of her. And he was gone. Confused cerulean eyes flickered across his face, and the second he spoke she knew what he was going to do. Desired whipped up into unbridled fury, the inferno shifting from a white-hot need to a destructive crimson blaze.
The half-dressed doctor released her hand while the huntress used all of her strength to control her rage. That self-righteous son of a bitch. Even with her anger, she couldn’t keep her eyes from roving over his exposed flesh. The muscles of his chest glistened with sweat, despite the fact that the library grew colder each passing moment without electrically supplied heat. Aroused gaze continued lower, able to see the dark cotton of his undergarments slung low across the deep V of his Adonis belt. Madison had always found the physician attractive, but now…now she found it impossible to look away from him. Steadily, she met his eyes again.
Brunette hair whipped about her head as she shook it in denial, her braid having come undone during their tryst. “No.” She told him. “No, you don’t get to decide that for us, for me. You don’t get to…to do what you did and then this,” she motioned between them, at his shirt completely open and her sweater hanging off her shoulder. “This…god damn it, Remy. Can’t you understand what it was like for me? What all this is like?” Madison knew she was rambling, but nothing that she was feeling made any logical sense either. “You come here, dressed like that and you kiss me and you tell me…” licking her lips, she looked up and away from him momentarily, “tell me you love me.” Angry gaze found his eyes once more as she clenched and released her hands.
The huntress knew that she should not feel this way about him. Washing her hands of him the moment she first saw his tattoo would have been the wise thing, the best thing. Yet, she loved him, she loved him, she loved him. The forgiveness may come in time, she suddenly realized, as she watching him struggle with his decision to stop their affair in the heated middle. “You tell me, over and over how you want me, how you’ll always love me. And then you stop. You just stop, right when I…” Madison exhaled shakily, her entire body feeling as though it was vibrating.
“Don’t go.” She breathed; voice more desperate than she intended. The sound of it drew her back into the Grafton Inn, after they had made love (twice) and she slipped out of his embrace. Left hand extended between them, close enough to touch his stomach if she flexed her fingers “Please,” she never thought she’d beg him, but fear crept over the rage like a blanket over a fire, “what if this is all we have?”
The badly frayed threads of Remy’s careful restraint had tangled into a complicated knot in his chest, lassoing together past and present, adoration and anger, regret and gratitude. Cinched tight though they were, he could hardly distinguish between the myriad emotions that whirled through him in a vortex; they moved too fast and blurred together, until suddenly it was all too much. Blood rushed deafeningly in his ears, a roar as wild as the wind outside. His eyes were a churning storm as they met Madison’s furious gaze, and he felt the chipped pieces of his heart begin to shatter as she spoke.
Madison’s words were accusatory; she launched them at him like nocked arrows loosed from her bow, swift and deadly as they struck home. A flinch of grief, followed by a wince of guilt, contorted his flushed face. Standing before her, bare chest heaving with feeling, he didn’t know what to say to her barrage of questions. Because he didn’t know what it had been like for her—not really. How could he have? Aside from her confession at luncheon that day, when she heatedly admitted to caring about him after everything, their “conversations” had been relegated to ravenous kisses and desperate hands under the cover of closed doors and shadows.
The physician turned away…not completely, but enough to put another pace of distance between them as the room grew suddenly too cold and too hot at once. It wasn’t fair; none of it was fair. And yet his frustration stopped in his throat, his tongue failing to form any semblance of a retort. He looked back to her, unguarded. And the hurt flashing beneath those long lashes—hurt that he had put there—cut him like the run of a blade, but his traitorous body moved seemingly of its own accord in response to her forlorn expression. In two short steps, he glided back to her, snaking one arm around the small of her back while the other cradled one freckled cheek.
“It’s you, Madison,” he breathed at last, shaking his head slightly as he spoke. For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed. But he opened them again when he continued, pointedly looking into the shadowed blue depths of her gaze. “Can’t you see? It’s you. Every single day since…since that day…” He cleared his throat, heat and misery washing over him in alternate waves. “It’s always been you, and it will be you until the day I die.”
His attention drifted to her lips for the briefest of moments before he returned to her eyes. Sharp talons of familiar pain scaped against his bones, and he drew several slow breaths to calm his racing heart before he went on. “You are everything to me,” he whispered. His throat bobbed with a swallow against an onslaught of memories and promises. I love you, he’d declared. In the dark, in the light. At dawn. At high noon. He had meant every word. “What I did…what I didn’t do…” Those claws punctured deeper. “It was unforgivable. I know that, Madison, but I still…”
I still love you. I still want you. I want our life, the one we planned. Not this one, anything but this one. The unsaid sentiment gleamed in his steely gaze. Selfishly, and against all measure of propriety, what he wanted was for her to choose him. He didn’t want another clandestine rendezvous; he didn’t want stolen glances and chance encounters. He wanted to walk arm-in-arm, to trade affections with the doors flung wide open, to retire at the conclusion of the day to a bedroom they shared. Heart aching, he released a soft, pained sigh.
“But you…you are with Lawrence.” Even speaking the plain fact felt wrong. Off-key, somehow. And indeed, his voice faltered, falling flat on the syllables as jealousy’s venom intermingled with his yearning. He slowly pulled his hand away from her face, fingertips trailing across her cheek as they made their departure to rest delicately on her arm. “I can’t do that to him. Even if it’s…” He hesitated. But Madison had already voiced his fears, the same apprehension in her tone that he felt all the way to his core. “Even if it’s all we have,” he breathed, strained voice so hushed he wasn’t sure he’d said it at all.
