Anthony was undressing in his room after enjoying a glass of whiskey in his study. Sarah Jane proved to be a pleasant companion if she wasn't yelling at him. She had spirit, and that was to be admired by men of sense.
When he deposited her in her room before going to his, she had asked him again if he was keeping his promise of granting her a Season. He couldn't very well go back on his word if he wanted to avoid becoming deaf.
A Killsworth gentleman never went back on his promises, and he was not going to start now. As much as he wanted to avoid London, he would have to go now as it was a gentleman's honor.
How did this happen?
He sighed as he climbed on his bed. Sarah Jane was an unexpected surprise. He wouldn't have minded the company since he craved the presence of another person in his home, but he would have enjoyed it if they stayed in Kinsmen Place, miles away from the populated streets of London.
He used to have enjoyed being around with people, even with people from the ton, but disillusionment could change a man and shake him to his core.
He never really knew what the ton was saying about him because he had left even before they started ostracizing him in his face. His mother had admonished him for running. She did not understand why Anthony had felt the need to hide.
Resigned, he would have to ask assistance from his mother for this. He knew nothing of sending ladies into their debuts. He hadn't had to worry about it, even for his sister who was a good 7 years older than him. He was at university when she debuted and got married. It was so quick that one would think she had been compromised.
He had much to plan tonight.
Maybe he should pen a note to his mother? Yes, that would probably be necessary, as he hadn't been responding to her missives for over a year.
Anthony stood from his bed and started pulling the drawers out of their holes in his desk.
"Where's that blasted quill," he muttered under his breath, as he showed papers away and found nothing.
Anthony would have to venture downstairs and get a stupid piece of paper, quill, and ink.
As he quickly moved to the door, he realized that he was startlingly naked from head to toe. He muttered more uncivilized words. He pushed forth in four quick strides to get a robe, place it around his body, and storm out of the room.
Sarah Jane had all intentions to turn in early.
As soon as Lord Killsworth-Rosenberg—as she now liked to call him because of the laughable ambiguity—deposited her in front of her room, she knew she would not be able to sleep even if she was desperate enough to try.
She had slept through the day and it would be impossible to sleep a wink now.
She slipped out of the room, wearing only her chemise and a light muslin robe to get a book from the library. She liked to read to keep her mind off of things. Light novels were her favorite, and there wasn't a book in sight in this boring room. She slipped her slippers on and took a candle with her. She would be out and back without anyone noticing.
This cannot be constituted as bad behavior. She was simply looking for a book.
No, she decided, this behavior was absolutely normal for a lady to be doing—except that it was already deep in the night and she was creeping to avoid waking anyone.
Shaking her head as if to harden her resolve, her feet began to move in the opposite direction. Lord Killsworth-Rosenberg already entered his room, and if he did not, she couldn't even begin to consider what she would be telling him if he found her sneaking like this.
Her feet scurried towards the staircase and as she placed her hand over the railing, a sudden hair-tingling sensation crawled up her arm. She remembered his kiss, oh it was very nice and so wicked that she rather thought herself to be a complete wanton for enjoying it. A veritable minx, for wanting more.
In a sharp turn toward the halls, she tried to recall where the library was situated. Where could Mathilda be? Surely she was already asleep. No one would see her now.
Sarah Jane roamed in the entrance of the kitchen for a good measure and then turned to inspect the dining room.
She frowned. Now that she was thinking about Mathilda, she noticed that she wasn't at all present during her short stay at Kinsmen Place. Usually, Mathilda fussed about her like a pecking hen...
A clap of thunder.
Sarah Jane gasped aloud. The wind outside was picking up and they had forgotten to close the windows of the main hall. The hall candles, which were dangerously low, the wick almost submerging into the melted wax, had started to dim away.
It would just be a matter of time before it would all, one-by-one, die out.
A concerning shadow enveloped the room. Sarah Jane picked up the end of her dressing gown and ran to the nearest escape—an open door with visible light.
In her haste to enter the room, she had kicked whatever was keeping the door open and the wooden plank creaked its hinges, slamming in her wake.
The rattling hinges echoed, creating an eerie silence about the room; and the light which attracted her to the room had now been put out.
Sarah Jane trembled, her hands and knees shaking, distraught from the darkness. She was stuck in an unfamiliar room, her heart heavy, her mouth dry, and her feet frozen in place.
And then she heard a voice.
"Bloody—"
"KILLSWORTH!" She had a soft shrill voice, and she stretched her arms out blindly.
"Sarah Jane," the voice asked, and was followed by soft scratching footsteps from the farthest corner. "Why are you here?"
"Killsworth?" She moved closer to the voice, her feet dragging behind her. "Lord Killsworth, please." Tears were already streaming down her face, from relief or from the fright, she didn't know.
The footsteps became louder, more hurried. It was nearing her now, his breath almost audible.
"I'm right here."
"I can't see," she sobbed as she moved closer to the sound, and then stubbed her toe at god-knows-what. "Ow!"
Just then her hand collided with something warm and fuzzy, and she grabbed it for dear life.
"My lord?"
A hand slowly covered hers and pulled her against him. "Oh!" The breath left her body, as she was pulled upright.
He was too near, his heat warming her cold hands and shaken breath.
"Please," She begged for an unknown comfort. Darkness was an abyss that shook her to the core, never being able to understand the root of it all.
"You're trembling," he said as one of his hands went up to her head stroking her hair like a child.
"Calm down. Hush...I'm here"
She snuggled closer and squeezed her eyes shut, her tears drying themselves with the brush of his warm robe. His presence was comforting, and his arms and body reassured her that she need not be alone in the dark.
As long as her eyes were shut, she didn't have any reason to be afraid.
How long they stood there, he couldn't wager a guess.
When he heard her voice, and felt her panic cries and pleading his name, suddenly there was nothing more important than to come to her aid.
He stood there, smoothing her hair, embracing her and inhaling her intoxicating scent. His hands were gentle even as his body, which was clad only in his burgundy robe, was clenching with familiar distress. It had been too long since he had lain with a woman, and good god, he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of an innocent.
"Are you all right," he whispered softly as he tucked one lock of hair behind her ear. He could already imagine how her hair looked like, tangled and all ashen.
And then she was mumbling something on his chest, her words lost beneath the thick velvet.
"Sarah Jane?"
Her head lifted and seemed to be pointed at him. But his eyes had already adjusted to the darkness and he could see her profile in different shades of gray.
Sarah Jane kept her eyes closed. She was still afraid, and somehow, he felt his chest clench with the need to soothe her pain away.
"Sarah Jane," He called. His hands forming soothing circles on her back.
He smoothed her closed eyelids and whispered. "You must open your eyes. It will be easier to adjust to the dark."
He then moved his finger to her nose, lining its elegant arch. "See, I can see your nose perfectly." Then his fingers caressed her cheeks. "And your cheeks too, all because I had my eyes open the entire time."
Her eyes fluttered open, but it didn't escape his notice that her hands gripped tighter behind him, her fingers cinching the robe in tight pleats. She was most tenacious, and somehow that seemed to suit her. Sarah Jane would not be complete if she hadn't been as tenacious as much as she was passionate about all the things that delighted her.
Perhaps...
"I see what you mean," she whispered, amazed as the shape and edges of his face were gently emerging from the black, shadows lightening to give her a glimpse of his strong features.
"I think I can see you."
One of her hands went to his brows and gently brushed them, her fingers outlining his temples and tracing the creases beside his eyes. She marveled at the new ability. She had never once opened her eyes in the dark.
Her fingers shifted to the eyelids, feeling it shut beneath her touch. The soft satiny smooth skin trembled as her fingers felt the brush of his lashes. Her palms warmly caressed his cheeks, feeling the brittle hair towards his chin.
Finally, with her eyes wide open and fully adjusted to the dark, she brazenly traced his mouth, marveling at how it was much softer under her fingers in comparison of its memory on her lips.
Anthony's arms reached around her, tightening as the beginnings of desire wreaked havoc in his body. His mind, on its own volition, had veered dangerously towards how her tenaciousness and passion may benefit him with the utmost pleasure in bed.
Her finger's feather-light touch felt like fire licking his skin. The last straps of control snapped, and before he knew it, he was kissing the life out of her.
He devoured her mouth, relishing her pliant body beneath his. Her plush form encased in his hard frame, her face cushioning his sharp jaw as he opened and pushed his way inside her. His tongue swiped across her lower lip, inviting her to join his passionate play.
She moaned at the invasion, her head lolling back as she allowed him to do wicked things with his mouth. His lips tasted everywhere, her brows, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and it lingered and sucked lovingly on her lips. His onslaught of passion made her heart labor unsteadily, her breath catching when he nipped at particularly sensitive spots.
She was too sweet. Anthony felt like a dying animal in need to quench a thirst. She was delicious beyond comprehension, sending his blood boiling with her pulling, clutching, and writhing.
Her legs wobbled, making him tighten his hold on her even more. With one swoop of his arm, he caught her bottom and pressed her to the length of him.
"Anthony," she whispered urgently, as she felt something hard pressing her core.
His leg had begun to insert between her thighs, putting pressure where her passions were pitting. Her breath hitched, standing on her toes as he pushed her bottom to the edge of the desk as he sank deeper into her thin skirts.
Sarah Jane didn't know whether to sit or stand, bend or arch her back. She was completely helpless and under his spell. She felt hot and prickly, and then she felt as if she was floating. Her dress was falling apart, ribbons coming off and his hands freely roamed under the hem, hitching her dress, up... and up, over her knee, to her thighs.
"Anthony!" His fingers reached where her body and thighs met. The sensation rippling through her, making her toes curl.
Her voice seemed to penetrate the lusty haze.
He froze.
What the hell was he thinking?
No, he hadn't been thinking at all.
Frustratingly, he abruptly released her, stumbling back with a ragged breath. She leaned on the edge of the desk, hunching as her hands gripped the wooden casing of his study table behind her.
He rummaged through the storage compartments for a candle. Good god. He needed light—if they were to remain in the dark, the poor chit wouldn't stand a chance.
Anthony shuffled noisily inside the wooden boxes, grabbing hold of the first wax candle he could find. His nails scraped the wood painfully, and brought out a tinderbox. He flicked the metals together expertly, sending glowing embers towards the dried wood in the metal box.
Once lighted, he took the wick to the fire and closed the box. The scent of burning powder engulfed them, instantly calming his passions, as the pungent chemical elicited a low cough from both of them.
He settled the candle on the table and lifted his gaze to the lady in front of him.
Looking back at Sarah Jane was his biggest mistake.
———-
A/N: I used to be afraid of the dark, and the presence of my brother on another bed, sleeping peacefully, would always calm me if I woke up from nightmares. There wasn't any particular reason, and I don't really know how I grew out of the fear, but I'd wager a lot of people experienced this while young or are still experiencing it now. Hope it sounds about right? Let me know how YOU felt.
Thank you for reading my work. It always gives me pleasure to find new readers and meet them or talk to them! I've spent hours dreaming of this story, hours researching so that it would be historically accurate, and hours writing it to the best of my abilities. Comments are highly appreciated so that I can improve further. If you've enjoyed yourself reading this, kindly consider giving it a vote so that it bumps up Wattpad's algorithm :) Thank you!!