5. Lust
Well, he has noticed her, she remarks rather dryly to herself, stretching her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her. Otherwise, why would he be here? Does she really want an honest answer to that question? She knows he's lonely. In the year that she's been housekeeper and she's been allowed more into his confidence, if there's one thing that she's learned about him it's that he's lonely beyond anything else but very very good at hiding it. He's very good at hiding anything, it seems.
On his part, she acknowledges, this is probably not much more than a slip-up. He respects her as a colleague, maybe as a friend, but she's not sure that he feels for her the way she does for him. She was sure he didn't until ten minutes ago. She pushes that thought away, kissing him frantically.
She has tried to comfort him in every other away. This is the very least she can do. She's loved him constantly, unwaveringly, silently for long enough. No matter what this is to him- or isn't- she isn't going to pass on this chance now.
His arms are wrapped tightly around her. Her head is spinning. Even if she wanted to stop now, she doubts she could; the lust, the desire has kicked in. She lets him take her dress off, her corset off.
"Lie down, Elsie," he tells her.
Good, he's not asking her permission. She doesn't want him to have second thoughts, she needs this very much now. His weight above her is very comforting, there is a temporary sense of permanence about it. But he doesn't move into her yet, though it's what she's expecting. His hand plays at her breast as he kisses her collar bone. She bites her lip until she can't help herself any more and moans.
She can't quite bring herself to believe it; though it's all very hurried, he's still taking his time with her, as it were. This is why, she reminds herself, she loves him. Perhaps, it's not to much to hope that he might love her back after all. She can feel it building up inside her.
"Charles," she manages, "You'd best-..."
She hopes she doesn't have to spell it out for him.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
It's amazing that the question she was dreading minutes ago, makes her so happy now. She bites her lip and nods fervently.
When she finally calms back down, much later on, she lies silently. She can't think of anything to say, even if she trusted her voice. It was not at all what she'd been told to expect- "Lie back and think of England" her mother had told her, obviously forgetting that they were Scottish. She plays with his hair, affectionately.
She waits until she's completely cold before she says it. She wants him to know that it's not just a thing said in the heat of the moment, like a side effect.
"Charles, I love you."
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