Master of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle

Author:Delilah Marvelle [Marvelle, Delilah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance
Publisher: Delilah Marvelle Productions, LLC
Published: 2014-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

Peering down the narrow corridor, only to find it empty, Leona grazed her bare hand across the expanse of the uneven walls she passed and lifted her gaze to the narrow stairwell she now rounded. She glanced into the darkened parlor which held very few furnishings along with a leather trunk.

He wasn’t there. He’d gone upstairs where the bedchambers were. He was announcing his intentions and it was now up to her to respond.

If she was bold enough to do it.

She doubted it would be tame.

She doubted it would be polite.

And yet for some damn reason it felt…right.

She frantically swiped and rubbed at her cheeks to try to smudge off whatever rouge was on her face, knowing he didn’t like it. She then pertly arranged her skirts, patted her hair to ensure the pins were in place and even checked her breath by cupping her palm before her mouth.

All was good.

She dragged in several breaths and squarely faced the stairs. Too many years of sleeping alone with a deflated pillow challenged her into embracing whatever was about to happen next. Gathering her calico skirts, she made her way up the stairs. They creaked beneath each step as if scolding her into recognizing her folly. She winced at each creak that announced to Lord Brayton she was coming.

On the landing, she pushed out another breath and turned to find only one door was wide open. The second door to her right. She entered the room and paused beside a lumpy mattress and coverings that were unceremoniously laid on the floor without a bed frame. She blinked and was astounded to find Lord Brayton had already removed his coat, exposing the bulk of his muscles that strained his linen shirt and waistcoat.

It took her a moment to realize the removal of his coat hadn’t been done in the name of seduction but to allow for better movement of his arm. He was carving strange, squiggling symbols into the wall.

He scraped and dug into the wall with the tip of his blade, his features tight and focused. “You shouldn’t have followed. I’m trying to restrain myself.”

She knew that. “I’m afraid I’ve been alone too long to listen to common sense.” She edged closer, noting the archaic symbols he carved. “What are you doing?”

He tightened his hold on the blade with a rigid fist and curved the blade to finish one last marking. He lowered his blade and smoothed a large hand over it, scattering the shavings from the plaster and wallpaper. “In Persia, a man is not allowed to speak to an unmarried woman. Courtship is reduced to signals. Signals that allow each side to decide whether to move forward or fall back without the consequence they will be bound to once real words are spoken between them. I never fully understood its power until now.”

Leona drew in a half breath, wandering closer.

Everything about this man was so real and soul provoking. It made her wonder if perhaps there was such a thing as reincarnation.

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