Culture, Correctness & Charles
Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Liberty Stafford
Word Count :21403
Publication Date :2011-06-19
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55487-232-9
In polite society, not everyone is genteel. Not everyone can be.
Eliza Gordon is a beautiful, passionate, independent young woman drowning in the rigorous sensibilities of Victorian England. Her safe yet mundane existence is shattered suddenly one snowy night by the crashing arrival of Charles Frazer, a wild, handsome, untamed man. Charles is the unwilling heir of the Frazer fortune which, without him, may be handed over to his evil cousin, Randolph, who also wishes to possess Eliza. Sent back from the Arctic after living peacefully with the Inuit, Charles finds repatriation and rules impossible to adhere to. His predicament is made worse by the close presence of Eliza as their desperate attraction is undeniable and forbidden. They can only steal surreptitious moments of furtive passion. When Charles and Eliza are kidnapped and taken to the Frazer mansion, will either of them ever escape? Can Charles survive or will decorum crush his liberated spirit? Will love destroy them both?
“Oh yes, but lots of fun. I had a dog, well, a wolf, who would come to my home looking for food. Sometimes he would roll in the snow and we would chase each other. I was just beginning to get close enough to stroke his fur when they came.”
“Don’t be. It’s not for you to be sorry.” Charles skipped away around the other side of the hedge. He fumbled some loose snow into a ball and threw it at Eliza.
“Hey!” she shouted, shocked, not used to such horseplay.
Eliza perked up and saw Charles running playfully away toward the rose garden. As quick as she could, she took flight after him, not sure if she wanted revenge or was scared that he may abscond. That area of the garden was shrouded by romantic corridors of high trellising which were at present covered in ivy and winter roses so provided thick cover for those who wished to hide. Panic set in as Eliza could not find him anywhere. Her wide eyes darted. She feared he had tricked her and made off.
“Charles!” she yelled. “Where are you? Charles!”
“Over here!” he replied.
She could not see him. “Charles? Ouch!” Eliza stumbled headlong over her long velvety skirt and fell with her garments tumbling clumsily around her waist. Something sharp pricked at her tender inner thigh. She heard Charles running to her so promptly dusted her skirt and petticoat back into a proper position.
“Eliza! What happened?”
“Stupid skirt! It tripped me. Ouch!” she felt a sharp pain in her inner thigh.
“You’re hurt. Let me fetch your father.”
“No, it’s nothing much I’m sure. I fell on a rose cutting. Will you avert your eyes while I look? Oh, there’s a thorn in my leg.”
“You are not meant to be looking!” Eliza chastised him.
* * * *
She was sitting on a small stone bench with her skirt and petticoats hitched up to reveal her entire leg. Charles looked on with intense longing. Her small, black ankle boots with tiny heel made her look so feminine, so different from the women he was used to seeing in large fur boots. Her eggshell pale skin was also different from the hues of female skin he had seen in the shared housing in the arctic. A small spot of blood appeared upon the flesh of her thigh and he could see a small, black shard. “You have a splinter. It needs to come out.”
Eliza forgot her modesty in her desperation to pull out the thorn. “I know. I can’t get hold of it.”
“Squeeze the skin either side.”
“No, that’s not working either.”
Charles dropped suddenly to the floor between her knees and put two fingers around the swollen area. “Let me deal with it. Stay calm.”
“What are you doing? Oh!”
Eliza fell speechless as Charles, without invitation, pressed his warm lips against her chilled thigh and began to suck. A small amount of her skin pulled brusquely into his mouth. She released an involuntary sigh of pleasure. Though he knew it to be wrong, Charles kept his eyes open because what he saw pleased him immensely. Very close, he saw a clean, white pair of cotton knickers which had an orange ribbon threaded crisscross fashion down the middle.
Delicate lace trim fringed the edges. She smelled clean and very womanly. Without meaning to, his strong, rugged hands gave an involuntary squeeze to the smooth, glossy velvet fabric that they rested upon. Charles dexterously used his teeth to softly tease out the splinter and, all too soon, he had finished. “There, it’s out,” Charles brandished the thorn with pride, holding it aloft as if to prove why he had been settled between her thighs.
Eliza’s legs remained slightly apart and elongated, her back arched and her reddened face turned to the white clouds above.