Page 8 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

Beckworth stood, his concern over keeping Stella busy pushed aside for a moment. Hensley must have a new horse. If anything could distract him from his worries, it was horses.

“ O h, my dear, you’re here! We were so worried when you didn’t arrive yesterday. Thankfully, we received Beckworth’s message this morning.” Mary waddled into the foyer to welcome Stella, Eleanor, Bart, and Lincoln.

Stella met her with a wide grin that faltered for a moment under Mary’s suffocating hug. It took a moment to catch her breath. “Sorry. Maire and Sebastian fiddled with the incantation. I’m just glad we arrived at Waverly.”

“Are they still happy living in the future?” Mary fanned herself. “I still find that so strange to say.”

“You and me both.” Stella stepped aside to let the rest of her party receive their fair share of Mary’s robust greeting. She turned around for Barrington, but he wasn’t there. He must have taken the coach to the carriage house.

She’d expected Beckworth to greet her until Mary answered her unspoken question.

“The men returned to the study after Hensley showed off his new horse. Elizabeth is waiting for us in the sitting room. There’s no reason why we can’t serve drinks a little early.”

“I imagine the men started a while ago,” Stella quipped.

She itched to interrupt the boys’ club, but she’d spent enough time in this era to understand it would be considered rude.

If they’d been in Baywood, she wouldn’t have hesitated to waltz in without a second thought.

Well, she’d at least knock once, though probably wouldn’t wait for a response.

When they reached the sitting room, Stella’s grin returned.

The dowager Dame Elizabeth Ellingsworth perched on what Stella had learned from AJ was a Chippendale chair.

If she wore a crown, she’d be as regal as whoever the current queen was.

Stella paused a moment, wondering if that was something she should know before attending the parties.

The nobles might ridicule her as one of those “colonists” from America, but she wasn’t a heathen.

She glanced at the others in the room. Maybe it was best to ask Beckworth.

Stella strode to her, and Elizabeth’s gaze brightened as she stood to give Stella a hug.

“My dear, it’s so good to see you.” She returned to her seat after greeting the others and waved for them to sit.

Two footmen served wine for the ladies and something a bit stronger for Bart and Lincoln.

She wasn’t sure Lincoln was old enough, then she considered the time period.

With the ongoing war, he was old enough to be impressed into service if he were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Though his acceptance into their medical school should save him from that fate.

The group spent twenty minutes catching up before the men joined them. They’d barely greeted each other before they were called to dinner.

Beckworth slipped her arm through his as he guided her to the dining room. He bent low and whispered, “Stop giving Hensley the evil eye. We were just catching up, then got sidetracked looking at Hensley’s new stallion.” He kissed her cheek.

She wanted to believe him. He wouldn’t lie to her. It wasn’t until after they were seated and the footman was ladling soup into her dish that alarm bells clanged in her head. He wouldn’t purposely mislead her unless he’d gotten involved in a mission he considered dangerous.

He always put her safety first, and that meant the world to her, but now that they were in his time period, he tended to smother with his need to protect.

When Mary laughed at something Lando said, she glanced around.

She’d been too busy woolgathering, creating issues she had no proof existed, that she’d missed the discussion.

She smiled along with the others and pushed her misgivings aside.

They mingled longer than usual over dinner and dessert, and she was thankful when Mary called their time in the drawing room short.

She was hosting a garden party the following afternoon and wanted to get an early start on last-minute preparations.

The event was in Stella’s honor to introduce her to the women who would attend some of the same social venues.

It was meant to ease Stella’s entry into society. Just call her Eliza.

Even with the shortened time in the drawing room, they returned to Templeton’s manor later than usual.

Before Stella could climb the stairs, Eleanor pulled her aside to discuss a backup lady’s maid for when Libby wasn’t available.

Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper, had two different maids in mind, and Stella, too tired to care, let Eleanor decide.

When she reached the bedroom, she was surprised by the number of lit candles in the room. Besides the fire in the hearth, they were the only light. She kicked off her shoes, wanting desperately to get out of the gown, and was disappointed when Libby wasn’t waiting for her.

She took a few more steps into the room and scanned the bed, but other than being turned down, it was empty. Yet, she sensed someone. Her gaze roamed the room and stopped at the hearth. She almost groaned with pleasure when she stepped closer.

Beckworth had taken a chapter out of her own book of seduction.

He lay naked on a fur rug, leaning on his elbow. His face was shadowed by the fire behind him.

Her mouth salivated. She knew every detailed inch of his contoured body that was hidden by the flames. And though she couldn’t see it, she knew there would be a salacious grin on his handsome face.

And here she was, fully dressed and unable to remove her gown without assistance.

When he slowly stood, she understood. He wanted to be the one to undress her. More of his body came into clarity as he stepped closer.

She inhaled a deep breath. If he didn’t hurry, she’d rip the dress off herself, uncaring whether anything could be salvaged.

He didn’t speak a word as he drew close, his eyes locked with hers until he moved behind her. Buttons were slowly released, and she closed her eyes as the press of his fingers along the fabric of her dress made her shiver.

He slowly brushed the gown off her shoulders, trailing his fingers down her arms as the dress fell to the floor. His hands gripped her hips as she stepped out of the gown. Goose bumps erupted over her sensitive skin as he continued to unwrap the rest of her.

She almost tipped over when he knelt to remove her stockings.

Her legs shook when he kissed each of her upper thighs before standing to take her hand and lead her to the rug.

He’d been so gentle through all of it, and she ached to touch him.

Not that she hadn’t tried while he’d been undressing her, but he kept pushing her hands away.

Once they stepped onto the rug, his desire washed away any gentleness.

He tugged her to him, his arms wrapping around her, his kiss almost brutal with passion.

Her blood sizzled as his hands roamed over her.

Her legs buckled when his hand dipped between them, and she would have fallen if he hadn’t gripped her tighter.

He pulled her down to the floor. No time for more foreplay. They were way past that.

Between their late arrival and busy schedule, they hadn’t made time for themselves since their first day at Waverly. After that, they’d been too tired to do anything more than snuggle under the covers before passing out from exhaustion. The same went for their travel to London.

She wanted to make new memories here, and she couldn’t think of a better way to begin. He rolled her over until she was on top, and she rode him slowly and deeply, his hands gently massaging her breasts until he pulled himself up, hugging her to him as he pulled her under him.

The tender lovemaking evolved into something more heated, needy, and demanding.

Her head rolled back, and she closed her eyes, remembering the stars in the night sky when they made love in their Baywood garden.

Then her eyes popped open to the sight of flames.

And though she knew they were confined to the hearth, the fire seemed to consume the entire room.

Sparks flew, and she didn’t know if they were from a log falling into the embers or the passion rocking through her, ready to explode until it filled the entire manor.

He fell back on his knees, tugging her with him as she rocked to match his rhythm. She bent her head to his chest as the first wave hit, and she gripped him tightly as he nuzzled her neck until the overwhelming sensation subsided. Somehow, she’d held in her scream.

She never let go as he continued until his breathing hitched, and his low growl reverberated against her throat as his own release took him. The last thing she remembered was them falling sideways onto the fur rug, their arms wrapped around each other as sleep took them both.