Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Maeve's happiness didn't diminish during the following days. Actually, with each day that passed, she was growing happier.
They had found an arrangement that satisfied her beyond words. Most nights, Lucian would sneak into her bedroom to spend the darkest hours with her, until dawn. Also, on some afternoons, she would go to his house, pretending to be visiting Anita, who was in on the subterfuge.
She enjoyed going to his place, as she felt freer and wasn't scared of being caught, which she always feared when they were in her bed. However, regardless of where they met, the reward was more than worth the risk.
It was still hard to believe how obsessed she had become with the man. She needed him to satisfy her carnal appetites, but also for the meaningful and enjoyable conversations they were having in between. She was amazed to have thought him to be a heartless beast, as Lucian was, in fact, very attentive and affectionate.
He took great pleasure in showing her new things, teaching her how it all worked, always careful not to hurt her in her pride or physically. Ever since the first night, it had become increasingly comfortable and enjoyable. She loved the fact that he encouraged her to be bold and trust her instincts, and she had managed to surprise him more than once with her imagination.
She was impressed by how harmonious their relationship was now. Before they had stumbled into each other's arms, they couldn't help but argue. But now, she couldn't possibly get mad at him. The fact that they weren't pretending to despise one another anymore certainly helped in that way.
It always felt odd when they came across each other during a party. It didn't feel right to be away from him, to hold back her impulses, and to keep a cold and distant facade, when all she wanted was to isolate herself with him. Ever since the whole thing had started, they had managed to avoid getting themselves into compromising situations. Except once. During an incredibly dull dinner party they were both attending, they had shared a few stolen minutes of bliss against a wall in the library of their host, while the guests had retreated into a parlor for cigars and card games.
Still, it didn't matter how much time passed, it was ridiculously hard not to give any signs of their shared intimacy. Especially today, during the garden party Maeve was attending with her parents and siblings. Lucian was here too, accompanied by Delawney, as always, and Maeve was struggling to contain herself.
Lady Clifford was a gorgeous woman, particularly known for her promiscuousness — and that even before her husband had died of a horse-riding accident about a decade ago. Adamant to enjoy the freedom of her widowhood, she wasn't shy about her quest to find lovers to occupy her lonely nights. As it turned out, she seemed to have set her mind on Lucian now, and Maeve was reaching her limits. She'd watched the god-forsaken woman openly flirt with him the entire afternoon, and she wouldn't be able to hold her tongue much longer.
While he didn't seem interested in the widow's advances, Lucian wasn't rejecting them very hard either. Because of that, the dreaded woman kept coming back for more, certain the appealing baron could be won over.
