Sweet Love of Mine

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Sebastian was jolted awake by a loud crash in his room. He sat up, the sheet pooling about his waist and hips, and squinted into the darkness. He couldn’t immediately discern a presence in amongst the heavy black shadows that convalesced in his corners and round the edges of various bits of furniture, but a tingling awareness, an extrasensory perception, made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck tingle with the energy of another presence in the chamber with him. Alert, intuitive, he narrowed his eyes, squinting through the darkness, his muscles tensing in readiness for action. He knew he was not alone.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. Sebastian, as a threat, was quite substantial. He was an avid pugilist, finding the reprieve in exercise conducive to relieving more of his worrying thoughts. Due to hard physical punishment he inflicted upon his body, he was a prime example of pristine maleness, delineated with whipcord muscular strength and vitality. He was fast on his feet, his reactions precise and calculating, and with one swift blow he could fell his adversary effortlessly. Even now he was readying his mind for attack, preparing his muscles for decisive manoeuvres that would vanquish the felon intruding within his private chambers.

The shadows seemed to move and sway; the dark thickening about him. He stiffened, his ears pricking for a marginality of sound that would indicate where the villain stood. Given the general source of the crash that had awoken him, he surmised it was adjacently to his left, close to the bed yet safely ensconced in the blackness of the corners. “Reveal yourself, miscreant,” he growled, his voice laced with sharp-edged threat.

There was a small, feminine groan. “I think I broke your mirror,” Emily said miserably from the other side of the room.

His awareness precipitated into the air with a gush as all his anxiety and tension was released, the air in his lungs whooshing past his lips. The ferocity of his adrenaline, his quickly assertive predatory demeanour, was immediately replaced by something more disturbing and disgruntling: lust. She was here, in his room, alone. His limbs began to tremble with that awesome knowledge, with the heat of his blood pounding furiously through him veins, combining anger and need so palpably he shook from it. “Jesus, what are you doing in here?” he hissed furiously, angry that she would risk her reputation like this and angry that she had absolutely no idea just what her presence was doing to him right now. He was as hard as a rock thanks to her, in his room, while he slept naked. Naked. And she was very much clothed.

“I needed to talk,” she explained, then sighed. “I suppose I could’ve waited until morning.”

“Yes,” he drawled sarcastically. “You could’ve.” Fumbling briefly, he found a flint and lit a candle at his bedside. The room was illuminated in a soft, orange glow and he found Emily nervously standing towards one corner, a vase shattered by her bare feet. “Don’t move,” he grumbled, noting that if she did, she’d cut her toes to ribbons.

She glanced down and flinched. “Sorry. At least it wasn’t your mirror. I don’t need any more bad luck than I already have.”

Indeed, he thought dryly. He wrapped the sheet around his waist and loosely folded it secure before traipsing to her side, yanking her off her feet and dumping her on his bed. A shard of porcelain now embedded itself in his heel. He’d have it seen to tomorrow. Right now, all he needed to do was concentrate on getting Emily out of his bedroom before he ravished her.

“Emily, what are you doing here?” he asked harshly.

She glanced up at him standing before her, arms folded over his broad chest, and her green eyes widened at his state of undress. “Good God, are you naked?” she squeaked.

“No. I have a sheet on.”

He heard her swallow and a blaze of red scoured her cheeks. Good. Let her be as uncomfortable as he. All she wore was her robe which was tied tightly about her waist and fastened closed at her throat. Underneath, he liked to imagine she was naked. Hard as a rock? He was harder now, and palpitating with an urgency he could hardly control.