Seductive Deception

Chapter 33

Morgan reached for Allegra's hand and tugged it to him, guiding her through the front of the dower house and down the narrow hallway to the room where they'd made love.

He opened the door and stood back, watching her reaction as she took it in.

It was a quaint but cozy bedroom—flickers of amber light played across the walls as he lit white candles in varying heights all around the room. The scent of fresh-cut lavender mixed with fruit and honey wafted around them. The bed, once a mattress of horsehair with a simple wood frame, was now a massively garish piece of mahogany furniture with pure white pillows and blankets beside it. On a side table sat a small vase of dandelions.

Allegra smiled when she saw them.

Morgan brought a basket and set out an elaborate spread of food on the armoire for them to munch and graze on— cheeses, pickled vegetables, salted meats, fruits, a loaf of bread, jams, jellies, and sponge cake, he asked the cook to prepare.

Beside it was a bottle of his favorite whiskey.

He watched as she took it all in—watched the splendor of it all play over her features—the way she circled the bed—her fingers grazing over the surface, how her jaw dropped at the sight of the candles, and the way a small smile played on her lips at the sight of the whiskey.

"Whiskey," she looked at him in mock disbelief.

"And tea cups." He pointed to two stacked neatly on end.

She laughed.

He couldn't help but envision them entangled—flesh to flesh, hearts racing, her hair sprawled wildly over his chest. He cleared his throat and readjusted his trousers. How could his cock already be hard?

"It's all so..."

"Romantic?" he proposed, and they both laughed, and when their laughter fizzled, there was an all-consuming tension that flitted between them— pulling them taut.

They stood in front of one another, beside the bed, and he watched as the shadows of the candlelight flickered across her features—at once, both exposing and concealing the longing that glimmered in her eyes with the mercurial light.

He came to her and held her in his arms, hugging her. She was so warm, her feminine body tucked against him, making him wild with want. He bent in, craving the familiar scent of rosewater and mint.

When he couldn't control himself any longer, he took her head in his hands and kissed her passionately before she again succumbed to his whims. He explored her with his mouth, tracing little kisses along her collarbone and neck as she wiggled, laughing. The light and airy beautiful sound making his heart leap.

"Morgan," she breathed against his lips, "this is lovely, and I am grateful you'd do something like this for me...but I have another idea."

His brows furrowed as he pulled back, gazing at her with curious admiration, "What's that?"

"Let's go outside."

"Outside?"

"Yes, let's make love outside...after we go to the lake and throw stones in."

One side of his mouth quirked up. "I like that idea."

***

After he took her on a stroll around the gardens and showed her the flowers he'd had planted, they wandered toward the pond on Whittington property, where they'd thrown stones as kids.

The lake was placid, a basin between rolling hills that reflected the still night surrounding them. The willow stood sentry, its large gnarly trunk reaching heavenward, pulled by the weight of its branches as they draped across the water, sending expanding ripples in their wake.