The Diary of Cozette (15 page)

“Be quick, Miss Cozette, the master is running low on his port and you know how he gets,” Miss Farrington called in a fierce whisper from the top of the kitchen stairs.

“Coming, Miss Farrington.” I picked up my lamp and spied from the corner of my eye a bed of straw with a blanket stretched over it. I wondered if this is where Jensen slept.

I emerged from the cellar to find Miss Farrington standing at the window overlooking the back lawn. Nearly imperceptible in the dusky evening were fat, white flakes falling listlessly from the heavens. “And on Christmas, how wonderful, I must inform her ladyship.”

I was careful to make my way to my mistress, avoiding the long arm of the formerly drunken sot (I am quite sure he had a name, though I would sooner remain oblivious of it most assuredly.)

My heart lifted as her face brightened and as if by design almost immediately there was on the front walk the sound of music from the street musicians, singing their songs of the season.

Protocol cast aside, dinner was brought to an abrupt halt, and in a manner I found more childlike than unorthodox, Lady Graham grabbed my mistress by the arm and together they led the quick procession to the door.

“Get out your billfolds, gentlemen,” Lady Graham called over her shoulder. “We intend to make good on our promise to share our good fortune with those in need.”

I kept my station at the entrance to the dining room, my hands folded at the ready for their return.

“I wonder if I might trouble you for another of these rolls—they are delectable.”

Startled by the voice, I surveyed the near vacant room, having believed all of the guests were crowded on the front veranda and found my gallant soldier still seated at his place. I curtsied, unsure why he would not join the others though I did not question his choice. “I’ll see that Cook gives me some fresh from the oven.” I made haste to his side and picked up the breadbasket near his right hand.

He covered my hand and gazed up at me with a wicked gleam in his fiery blue eyes. Those were without question a product of his father’s genes. He held my gaze steadfast, his smile curling the corner of his tempting mouth.

“Do you not find these occasions as dreadfully boring as I?”

I hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen door, knowing Miss Farrington would not suggest I offer a response. I cleared my throat daintily. “I hope that your evening thus far has been found to be most agreeable, Mr….?” I did not know him beyond his first name, and that I knew wisely not to be presumptuous enough to use.

“Andrew Worthington, Miss…?”

Cautious that someone might at any moment return to the room, I eased my hand from beneath his and took a step back. Not at all an easy task, I assure you. Perhaps it was his manner or the uniform alone, or perchance the sensual smile that promised he had something far more entertaining in mind than the musicians outside. “The musicians, you should hear them—” I began.

“You’ve seen one ensemble, you’ve seen them all.” He lifted his wineglass and swallowed its contents whole. “What do you do for entertainment around here, Miss—?”

I purposely avoided his eye roving over my dress; already there was a dull throbbing betwixt my legs. I licked my lips.

I suspected from the quirk of his brow that a man of his particular needs would not find titillating Lord Archibald’s plans to read from a piece of literary prose.

“There are theaters and pubs for the discerning gentleman down near the docks.”

Applause erupted from the front door and I curtsied in haste, making my way to the kitchen door. I kept my gaze averted though I could sense his presence even before I looked up and met him at the kitchen door.

“There now, miss, you take me for some cad looking to pay a lady for her services?”

His fingers grazed my chin, lifting my eyes to his.

“Indeed, I much prefer the robust equality of passion in my women.”

His gaze drew over my shoulder checking our privacy, before returning to mine.

I moistened my dry lips once more, refusing to meet those blue eyes as I’d seen them once before in my life, though admittedly not on as exceptional a physique.

“I like interesting women,” he said quietly, his tone sliding over me like a cool spring rain.

“Yes sir, I am sure a man of your experience has met many interesting women.” I glanced up at him, and though he gave me no response verbally, the sparkle in his gaze spoke well enough of my suspicions.

“You have a wit and passion that sparks in your eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? Further, I find you most intriguing.”

“Sir, this is not prudent.” However, I was weakening by the second.

“I’ve heard Master Archibald’s cellar is quite well-stocked. Perhaps you could show me the cellar and you and I could discuss further a conversation that may be more…suited to our mutual interest?”

“That would be quite impossible, sir.”

His mouth curled with a wicked grin, his steady gaze pinning me in place.

“Indeed, the very idea of ‘impossible’ arouses me greatly, miss. Does it you?”

I averted my eyes. “I must see to your rolls, sir.”

“Indeed, madam. They are warming even as we speak.”

He was most persuasive, and the gleam in his eye caused me to accept his dangerous proposal. “Lord Archibald will be reading after dinner in the library, after dessert.”

“How divine.” He cast his gaze heavenward and returned to meet mine. “You no doubt have a much better way to spend my last Christmas in England. Please, won’t you have mercy on me, miss?”

I lowered my voice to a bare whisper, my gut cautioning me against what I was about to say, but driven as much by lust. He leaned toward me, listening, but his gaze clung to my lips. “I need to find the brandy for the midnight toast. My master keeps his best in the far corner of the cellar.”

His mouth lifted into a delicious grin. “You may need assistance. It’s not safe to send a young woman alone into the cellar. You might turn your ankle and lie on your back for hours not properly attended to.”

Another round of applause erupted, causing me to straighten and step away from him. I knew this torrid liaison was unwise. For him, the retribution was far less severe than it would be for me. He was about to leave London and travel overseas for the likelihood of several years.

I smiled. “We will toast to your journey and for a safe return.” I pulled my shoulders back, giving him a look that punctuated the business side of our agreement. Indeed he knew well that I wanted this with as much determination.

“Very good, until the reading, then?”

He glanced once more over my shoulder and lifted my hand, turning it to kiss my palm. I admit, yes, my heart fluttered.

“I will see now to your rolls.”

He bowed and I sensed his gaze on me as I walked through the kitchen door.

I waited breathlessly in the chilled cellar. Outside through the murky window of the street above, I could see the snow beginning to pile near the window casing.

Jensen, most fortunately had disappeared, Miss Farrington stated, to enjoy the festivities in town. I offered to fetch the brandy as she worked hunched over the table upstairs preparing the plum pudding to go with the midnight toast. She waved her hand, a signal I’d come to know meant to not bother her.

I hugged my arms, aware of the scurrying of a mouse beyond the dim light of my kerosene lamp. The earth was firm, solid earth, and the casks for the wine stood against two walls floor to ceiling. Quite impressive a collection, most of it gifts from clients appreciative of his financial dealings. One section corded off in a small room separate from the rest was a few expensive champagnes and a few coveted bottles sealed with a thick, red wax seal—his imported French cognacs.

I lifted two bottles from their wood crates and upon turning to set them on a table, nearly dropped them at the sight of the uniformed soldier. Once again, he was quick to my aid.

“Is Dickens a long-winded writer, miss?”

He pressed close, dipping his head to capture my mouth. His tongue sought in haste to penetrate my defenses, and I clung to his arms holding myself upright. His breath was sweet infused with wine, his passion far sweeter as he slanted his mouth over mine with a satisfied sound.

“Did you not wish in the least to take note of Master Archibald’s notable cellar?” I breathed out in a sigh as his lips trailed the side of my neck.

He glanced up, his hands firm about my waist, and gave a quick look around him, offering a low whistle of appreciation.

“You were careful not to let Miss Farrington see you, sir?”

“It’s Andrew, and yes I told her I was going out for a breath of fresh air.”

“Perhaps it’s best if we dispense with names?” I suggested.

He held me at arms’ length, giving me a grin, mixed with curiosity.

“You seem like a woman knowledgeable of social customs, miss. Will you not permit me to know your given name? Surely we are not animals?”

He was right of course, and I am no longer a child certainly, nor untouched by a man. We are both old enough to be fully aware of our attraction and where it was leading.

“Cozette, Mr. Andrew.” I lifted my hands to my hair and removed the pins, letting my light brown tresses tumble over my shoulders. “How do you like your women, then? Shy and demure, then, or do you prefer to have control entirely? Perhaps, bold and forthright, matching you thrust for thrust?”

For a moment, I thought he might turn and flee, unsure what to make of my aggressive manner. He reached for the end of my hair, rubbing it gently between his fingers.

“I prefer a woman who wears no mask, who comes to me as she is, nothing more.”

“Then you are indeed a rare man among men.” I untied my apron and found a nail jutting from a foundation mooring. I hung it for safekeeping. The light moved as he brought it to a table near the straw bed I’d seen earlier. His hands drew slowly around my waist, curving upwards until his palms covered my clothed breasts. He nuzzled my neck, as he caressed me through the stiff cotton of my uniform.

“I could use your assistance, miss, with these blasted buttons.”

He turned me in his arms and with careful persistence, battling with his teasing kisses and tormenting hands, I managed to unfasten his jacket so that it hung open, giving glimpse of his exquisite body beneath.

I held his gaze as I drew it over his muscular shoulders. Underneath he wore a thin, sleeveless undershirt, tucked smart into his dark pants. His arms glistened bronze in the flickering light, the front of his dress trousers tented firm with his arousal.

I rubbed my hand the length of him and smiled as my fingers closed over his bollocks.

“Good lord, woman, you’ll have me in my drawers.”

He grabbed my wrist and held it behind me as he captured my mouth with a hunger that aroused my anticipation of him moving inside me.

Without the confines of his collar, his hair swept low across the top of his broad shoulders, his skin smelled of his musky, male scent and the chill of winter.

“Do you require my further assistance, Mr. Andrew?” I stared up at him, my backside propped against the table.

“Perhaps we should make the playing field more even?”

He turned the buttons of my blouse removing it with an intake of his breath as he hung the blouse over the apron. My breasts puckered tight to the cold, as I wore a crocheted camisole beneath, a lovely gift given to me from my mistress’s clothing that she no longer wished to keep.

“Exquisite,” he muttered as his fingers traced the lace openings and finding my pink nubs rubbed his thumb over each with a slow skillful motion that had me desperate to open my legs.

“Ah, not just yet, though when I feel you are ready I will not tarry. Make no mistake, Miss Cozette, my passion runs true in all my attributes.”

As I dearly hoped.

My heart pounded a cadence in my head, as he unlaced my corset bindings and spread the cloth so he could suckle each breast. My body pressed to meet his mouth, as my hand cradled the back of his head.

“So soft, and you smell of evergreen,” he whispered with a smile. “How very fitting to the season.”

His mouth on my heated flesh made me squirm beneath his attentions. His hands deftly unfastened my skirt and I braced against his shoulder as he drew it over my ankles.

“You are a vision, Miss Cozette. One that I swear will be with me always as I shiver in the wild northwest, surrounded with nothing but wildlife and men.”

I wore only my drawers and my black stockings that came over my knees, grateful at that moment that Miss Farrington had suggested to wear them. The cellar was quite cold despite the heat from Andrews’s eyes. He wasted no time in removing my drawers, pausing to place a kiss on the soft patch of my curls.

He stood and cupped my face, gently brushing my lips, teasing, tempting, taunting until I thought I might go mad to have him tight inside me. I grabbed his waistband and relieved him of the buttons holding up his trousers. Delightful to my anticipation his drawers provided freedom for his erection standing at grand attention.

In retrospect, I think him far better equipped than his father.

“I feel pressed to tell you, Mr. Worthington, that you are not my first.”

He responded by nuzzling my ear as he slid his finger deftly over my creamy slit. “Nor are you my first, madam. We share no miscommunications in this. What transpires in the confines of this cellar must begin and end here. Are you quite prepared as I am to strike a bargain on this?”

The truth when spoken with such clarity, honest as it was, squeezed my heart for the measure of a beat. I nodded, lifting my mouth to his in a quick kiss, drawing away and holding his gaze, making clear I understood his meaning.

His mouth slanted over mine softly, summoning my surrender to his charm. His fingers threaded through my hair as he stared down at me.

“Then let us have no pretense, but make this a moment we shall remember when we are old.” He was a sweet boy and from his first smile, I admit my heart found a soft spot for him. I guided him to the blanket-covered straw and stretched out before him, opening my arms in a lover’s reach, even as I did my knees.