Chapter 25: Sylvie

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Sylvia was convinced that everyone knew, so plainly was her indiscretion painted on her face.

The maids had changed her sheets and all day she had fretted if they did that regularly or if they were doing it because they knew. Once, while she was passing down the hall, one of the maids had called out to another, using her name- Charlotte.

Sylvie's heart had seized for a moment for she had imagined that the maid had called her a harlot and had nearly expired on the spot.

The footman asked her if she needed some extra coffee to invigorate her and she had bumbled a reply about not needing anything to wake her up because she had slept just fine, thank you very much!

If this was the result of one encounter, heaven help her if she actually did end up taking him for her lover! She would never be able to show her face again!

She had, in fact, not slept well at all, waking up every few hours to check whether or not Raphael had left. The git had been sleeping without a worry in the world! She had contemplated waking him and requesting him to make himself scarce, but then she had seen the dark circles under his eyes and could not bear to disturb him. Instead, she watched him sleep, stroking his hair, a small little crack appearing in her resolve to not make the same mistakes her youthful self had twice over already. At rest, he lacked his edge, his sharp tongue. He had looked like the boy who had been Sylvie's friend, who had given her seashells and brought her candy from London, and Sylvie could not help but love him. It was something as much a part of her as her connection to Jane. Raphael was...family. He had been even before he had become Jane's guardian.

For another, she would never give that smug arse the satisfaction! Just look at the way he had swaggered into breakfast, making jokes and innuendos! In front of his father, no less! Oh, but she could have strangled him at the table. Death by butter knife sounded suitably painful.

She sent him a hateful look from where she was sitting across the room but he missed it for he and Jane were engrossed in a serious discussion as Jane helped herself to more than her fair share of biscuits. Whatever they were colluding about, it was very important. To Jane at the very least, though Rafe did not act disinterested for even a second.

She had the strangest reaction to him whenever he acted paternal. It made him so completely irresistible to her, his handsomeness just intensified by the warmth of his actions. The tenderness and obvious affection he showed Jane.

It was hopeless.

She could not stop loving him any more than she could stop loving Jane.

That did not mean that she would be fool enough to fall in love with him. No indeed.

For one, she was not stupid. She knew full well that he was unwilling to offer her anything other than a short time, filled with mutual pleasure. Glorious, mutual pleasure, but no commitment. And she was beginning to fear that perhaps she would want those things.

From him.

That was not a problem where Michael was concerned because he inspired nothing more than a mild spark of attraction. Which was why he was a safer choice by far. The smarter choice. And Sylvie considered herself a rather intelligent woman, thank you very much!

She should tell Raphael that it was never going to happen between them and then embark on a mediocre, uninspiring but still pleasurable affair with Michael Alder.

Raphael caught her eyes from across the room, his gaze suggestive and heated, roaming from the top of her head, taking an obvious stop at her chest- though heavens knew why, there was not much to look at- and then back up to her rapidly warming face. She felt warm all over, heat blooming between her legs as she once again felt the forbidden sensation of his tongue and fingers against the most intimate parts of her.

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