Seduction in Ink - Dating the Devil series

Chapter 1: Obscenity sells

"And with a vice-like grip, she held onto his ball, or is it balls?" Amelia put her quill down to study the pages of the anatomy book once again.

"Why is this bloody book so unclear on the testicles? Plural, so according to this term, there are multiple."

More pages flew past her ink-stained fingers. "But here it says that a man has a sac—singular. So, which is it?"

The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls as she rummaged through another anatomy book, searching for any shred of information to help her write this scene.

"Only obscenity sells, wee one," the bookseller had laughed when Amelia came to offer her latest courtly romance book last week. His mocking voice had haunted her every moment since. How was she supposed to write obscenity books when she knew nothing about the subject? Hell, she had never even seen a man naked.

"Wallace, you eejit! I shall come knocking when my aunt kicks me out on the street." Amelia shouted at the rain-streaked window.

Staring at her reflection in the window she pouted her lips and folded her hands like aunt Elspeth always did. "When yer 26 yer must either be married or earn yer keep, lassy. A dinnae want to house an old lazy spinster, aye?" She sang in her aunt's chirping voice.

That was the deal she made 5 years ago, and aunt Elspeth never broke a deal. Even if it meant throwing her only niece out onto the street. Amelia let out a frustrated sigh. How in heaven's name was she supposed to earn her keep if no one wanted to buy her books?

30 days, she counted in her head, only 30 days until her 26 birthday.

Raindrops tapped rhythmically against the glass, a symphony that echoed her restlessness. It made her mind drift far from Edinburgh's darkened streets. This city once filled her with excitement. In the capital you can be whatever you want to be. That was what her mother used to tell her.

What a load of bollocks that turned out to be.

The hypocrisy of society's expectations was just as oppressive here as it was in Glasgow. Threatening to snuff out every dream of her freedom. The relentless pursuit of marriage and domesticity was like an inescapable trap and it was about to catch her.

She would rather die than let that happen.

Her books had to sell, there was no other option. "Obscenity, sells," Amelia repeated to herself.

And in order to write that, she needed to research obscenity—but how? Aunt Elspeth made her wash her mouth with soap when she found out that Amelia had kissed a boy. God knows what she would do if she asked about a man's testicles. The entire British Empire had to fall before aunt Elspeth would tell Amelia about what goes on between a man and a woman.

There were other options—books smuggled from far-off lands, hidden behind the shelves of dusty libraries, their pages worn thin by the hands of curious souls. But those books could only be found in a gentlemen's club, where she could not get in.

Desperation clawed at Amelia's chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Every plan she materialised in her mind ended with her either on the street or in jail. Both of which would diminish her chances of having to marry but also her chances of survival, and she wasn't about to give up on the latter.

With trembling hands, she browsed her anatomy books once again, craving anything of use. When those proved useless, she paced the room, her steps quick and restless, like a caged animal desperate for freedom. It was then, when all seemed lost, that Amelia's gaze fell upon the weathered tome nestled among the forgotten volumes of her study—a relic detailing the summoning of demons.