"Oh?" She rolled her lips together and smiled at me. "So, you are a demanding sort of lord then. A real taskmaster when it comes to work?"
I laughed again. "With you, I'm afraid I'll be even more of a taskmaster than usual. I simply have a great deal of work for you to do, and as I've told you before, you'll be very busy day and night."
She nodded her head slowly and said softly, "I figured. The contract better make all of this worth my while then." Then she smiled at me.
"It will, kitten. I'll make sure." I stepped toward her and took her hand. I raised it to my lips and kissed, then tugged her over to the green chaise and indicated that she should sit.
She complied perfectly.
"Actually, I didn't bring you in here to my study to ravish you, although the prospect of doing just that sounds really appealing, I must admit." I winked. "You have that effect on me, Miss Hargreave, every—single—time."
"I know," she said with a devilish little grin.
"I know you know, kitten. You're very perceptive about everything, but enough of that. I have another purpose in bringing you here, despite your very dirty mind, Miss Hargreave, plus I really wanted you to see one of my favorite rooms. This is where I do my work. I think the best view of the estate is from that big window." I nodded toward the floor to ceiling window that looked out upon miles of green. Hills and dales dotted with sheep framed by sky and the sea beyond. "I thought you might like an invite into my sanctuary. Nobody else has gotten one of those before—in the four years since it's belonged to me."
"It's a stunning view, Ivan, and I'm honored to be your first guest to receive an invitation. The beauty of this place is unforgettable, and I can clearly see why you call it your sanctuary," she said while studying the view through the window. "Is that a church?" She pointed to the stone chapel and gardens perched into the sloping side of the hill.
"Yeah, that's the chapel. It's not used as a church anymore, and hasn't for decades, but the light is excellent, and it could easily be transformed into a fantastic art studio for painting, or for other any other staging work you may need to do with the collection. I'll show you after we're done here."
"Are you really suggesting your chapel could be my workspace?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, if you think it'll suit your needs. It's plenty large enough once we clear out benches and such to make room for the easels and tables, or whatever you need. The altar will have to stay though. It's… special, and I don't want to tear it out. I'll show you later and you'll understand." I couldn't wait for her to understand why the altar would definitely be staying put. That altar was the pièce de résistance for me and her.
Because I was going to arrange her upon that altar at some point like the decadent feast that she was. And then I was going partake of my lovely feast at the altar de Gabrielle—and by partake I mean fuck—and it would be something of the marvelous for both of us.
"Oh my God, there will be no tearing anything out on my account, Ivan. Jesus, don't scare me," she said with wide eyes and a shake of her pretty head. "No altars or any structures are being torn out to make room for me to work. Let's just keep things very simple, for me to evaluate and do no harm while I'm here. Please?"
Her worry made me want to reassure her, but it would be a lie. Too late for doing no harm, kitten. She'd done some…to my heart. Made it vulnerable again. The one part of meeting her I did not care for at all.
She switched the subject smoothly a moment later, probably sensing my change in mood. Such an intuitive little kitten. "So, is this where you do your work for parliament? Tell me you get to pore over secret government dossiers sometimes. Any answers to mysteries from the ages that you can pass along? On the down-low, of course. I promise I won't tell a soul."
"Such as?" I couldn't wait to hear this.
"The Shakespeare authorship question. Who wrote it? The man from Stratford, or the Earl of Oxford under a pseudonym?"
"Look at you just bursting with the need to know, Miss Hargreave. My money is on the Earl of Oxford." I winked at her. "I'm related to him too."
"Ha! Of course you are, Mr. Everley. You're related to so many important people, czars included, why not the man who penned Shakespeare?"
Kitten has absolutely no idea how close she is to being pounced on again. "I don't have the definitive answer mind you, but I can get you invited as a special guest to either society, Stratfordian or Oxfordian, and you could ask them yourself. I'm sure any of those stuffy old geezers on either side of the question, would be thrilled to spend an evening sharing their opinions on the matter with someone who looks like you."
She threw her head back and laughed. "No, that's okay. I'm good, Mr. Everley. I'll stick with you." Score one for the American beauty intent upon making me fall in love with her whether I wanted to or not. You know you want to.
She patted the chaise with her hand. "You still haven't said why you asked me to come in here if it wasn't to ravish me."
Such a smart, smart mouth you have, kitten. "I thought we could talk about a schedule for being here together." I sat down next to her on the chaise but kept my handsy, depraved hands to myself. I sensed now was a good time for giving Gabrielle a bit of space, even if she wasn't showing it. I'd dropped a whole lot on her shoulders, and she had to be feeling overwhelmed with me right now. It'd be one thing if she were only here to catalogue the collection and nothing else. But I didn't just want her here for the art anymore.
What fucking art? I want her here for me.
I wanted to bring her with me on a kinky fucking adventure of defilement we could play out in private right here without the world having to know. The art was certainly not the driving force for me wanting to keep her at this point, but I was smart enough to know the art was my bargaining chip for keeping her. I'm not that stupid. I also understood what I wanted would complicate things greatly. Kinky fucking came with a pile of complications, unfortunat—
"That's a good idea, actually," she said softly, her attention focused completely on me.
"Sometimes depraved lords just want to talk, Miss Hargreave."
"You're right, of course, Mr. Everley, apologies for my presumption."
The acquiescence of her words woke my cock right the fuck on up. She was playing with me of course, but didn't that just feel wonderfully fine? I adjusted my position on the chaise to ease the discomfort of a stiffening prick and explained my situation. "I'm not at Donadea as much as I'd like to be right now. I've come here mostly when Parliament was in recess, until this year with the new cabinet appointment. I've been the whole summer staying at my London townhouse, Brentwood, during the Olympics, so now that's over I've been trying to make up for it by spending as much time at Donadea whenever I possibly can." I walked my fingers over to her hand where she'd elegantly placed it palm down on the chaise. "But now that you, Miss Hargreave, are going to be here working on the collection, I'll want to be here as well," —I stroked over her hand with my index finger— "with you."