Embarrassed, Rosalind's eyelids flew open to see a smug grin spread across Stefan's face.
"Lesson one," he said.
"Lesson one?" Rosalind repeated voice shaky, her entire body buzzed with excitement and need. The only thing keeping her upright was Stefan's muscular body holding her firm against the wall.
"Always leave with your opponent begging for more."
"I do not—"
"—Lesson two. Start with a simple caress or touch." His hands again reached out and cupped her face before his thumb rubbed across her bottom lip, finally dipping into her mouth just slightly before he said, "And lesson three."
Rosalind swayed on her feet as Stefan lifted his body away from hers. "What is lesson three?"
"Tonight, Rose. I'll show you tonight."
With a bow, Stefan took his leave and marched up the stairs, leaving Rosalind so bewildered she wasn't sure in which direction to go. So instead of walking anywhere, she slowly slid down the wall and sat in the middle of the hall and pulled her knees to her chest. Stefan's familiar whistle reached her ears. As she fought to keep herself from smiling, she realized that for once in her life she had been thoroughly bested.
Rosalind's shaky legs took her down the staircase towards the dining room. Curse that arrogant man for making her feel so weak! She would not — no she could not allow him to have such power over her! She hadn't expected the man to be so open to manual labor, nor for his countenance to be that of a thankful servant instead of a boastful duke. Why, she was even told by the stable hand that he helped birth a cow! Perhaps he was putting on a show for her? Logically, it would make sense, but she knew in her soul the man who constantly whistled — who talked to his horse like a fellow man — this was the true duke. And the more she thought on it, the more uncomfortable she became.
The very idea that he was pulling down her defenses was unnerving, not to mention that he thought to teach her yet another lesson.
Lesson one and two were hard enough, and her virgin mind could only horrifyingly bring up images of what his version of lesson three might be! With a deep breath, she entered the large dining room and gasped.
Stefan was standing next to her chair. The fire roared next to the table, but it wasn't heat she felt, but gooseflesh all over her body. For the barbarian of a man had cleaned up quite nicely. Blond hair was tucked behind his ears, his boots shined to perfection, and his dinner jacket hugged his large frame perfectly. His glaring white teeth against tanned skin were devastating, and for once in her life Rosalind thought she might actually swoon for want. Lustful desire made her knees weak as she continued to stare at the man. Her own body physically responding as her breathing hitched, and a throbbing ache made it's presence known. Her heart didn't help the matter for it thudded helplessly against her chest, "this one," it said over and over again. Stefan's chest rose and fell in cadence with Rosalind's own heartbeat. It seemed to take an eternity as she walked to where he stood and did a slow curtsy.
"No," Stefan murmured lifting her chin up with his gloved finger. "It is I who will bow to you, for the birthday girl should never have to humble herself or have proper manners on such a day."
Lifting a rakish brow, he bowed crisply, beautifully in front of her, his entire presence leaning ever so slightly in the air and returning back to his full stance. And then with the grace of hundreds of years of breeding helped her to her seat but not before bestowing a kiss upon her hand.
"My lady," His words lingered on the word my — warmth radiated through Rosalind's body until she thought she may promptly faint out of her seat as he took a chair next to her.
"Are you well?" Stefan asked.
"What? Yes?" Rosalind answered the affirmative; in all honesty, her eyes had been so thoroughly trained on his broad shoulders that she hadn't heard a thing. Ironic, since she had punished him earlier today for being guilty of a similar crime.
Feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment, Rosalind looked down at the table. The need to escape and break the spell he so powerfully wielded over her was almost suffocating.
"Hmm, it seems my punishment is appropriate then."
"Whatever do you mean?" Rosalind feigned a weak smile and took a sip of wine. There wasn't enough wine in all of Europe to make her nerves wither away. Why hadn't she taken to brandy?
"I mean—" Stefan said as he moved to his seat closer to hers. Lovely. They were apparently dining casual. At this rate, he would have her jumping over the table just to get the madness over with. Perhaps a chandelier would fall on her head? "—that you punished me soundly, or so you thought, for not paying attention to you when you were speaking. Alas, can you blame me, sweet Rose? For I was imagining how my hands would feel all over your body. How the nectar of your mouth would taste… I imagine you were thinking similar things when you entered the room, and by the blush on your cheeks, I can see that I'm right. So, truly, it is only fair, sweetheart."
"Fair, hah!" Rosalind reached for her wine again, but Stefan pushed it out of her reach.
"Tsk, tsk, wouldn't want you to be foxed during the lesson."
The man had a point. No telling how many liberties she would allow him when she wasn't in her right mind.
With a sigh, she leaned back against the firm chair. "So, this lesson, is it starting now?"
His rich laughter filled the room. Excitement jumped through her. "Believe me, Rose. You shall know when the lesson is to start."
With that, cook and Mary brought out the food. Stefan was wonderful conversation, telling her tales of his life in India. And Rosalind found herself wanting nothing more than to relax in his presence, but every so often he would smile and the candlelight would catch on his face. Or his leg would somehow manage to touch hers. And once, he leaned over and wiped a bit of desert from her face. She could have died from lust-filled mortification. In fact, it wouldn't have surprised her at all if she would have exploded.
But it was as if he wasn't affected at all! He just continued to relax and tell stories as if it was the most natural thing ever to be so familiar with her. It was driving her mad. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take it.
"And then," Stefan said scooting his chair closer. "Banana ran into the maharajahs tent and stole as many pieces of fruit as his little hands could carry. He took all types of fruit. Apples, oranges, pomegranates. Say, have you had a pomegranate before?"
"No." Considering Rosalind's wine was being monitored by Stefan, she took only a sip and waited.