III

Bella's POV

The boys have been settled into the beds, and must have finally fallen asleep because all of the thumping and laughter overhead died out almost half an hour ago. Despite their mischievous natures, they are easy children to love. Of course, I realized that I was prejudiced. Still, it seemed to me that even the servants doted on them. And perhaps Mr. Masen as well…

I pushed that thought aside, though it proved far more stubborn than was comfortable for me. I sighed and rested back against my chair, letting the cheerful crackle of the fire and the heat of the flames lull me into a relaxed state. It felt so good to lay down my burdens at the end of a long day, even if the reprieve is temporary. There are days when the loneliness was crushing, but the nights were still the worst.

Soon, I'd work up the courage to make my way upstairs and settle into the lonely bed that would be cold and vast and empty. Yes, the nights were always the hardest.

To put off that pain, I remained in the study. The windows were still open because the weather has been mild, though the night air still had a slight bite to it. I shivered and put my hands out to the fire, growing still as I realized that I heard a sound outside.

Anything unexpected is potentially dangerous, so I carefully got to my feet and made my way to the window, twitching aside the curtain to peer outside.

There was danger, that was most definite.

Mr. Masen was standing outside, gently illuminated by the moonlight, his jacket discarded, and his shirt open and unbuttoned enough so that I could see the dark shadows of the hair on his chest. It was wondrously strange to me, as the only adult male chest I had seen so exposed was my husband's, and his was a bare expanse of russet flesh, heavily roped with muscle, intimidating to a young girl. Even fully clothed, I was able to discern that Mr. Masen was slimmer than was my husband, but now the overall impression was one of lithe grace and subtle strength rather than any lack of power.

My mouth grew dry and a little gasp escaped me. I was afraid he had become aware of my scrutiny, as he grew still and quiet, his eyes roaming the open country around him. Strangely, he never turned toward the house. Then he gave a small shrug and I watched as he lit a cigar.

The scent of it drifted toward me on the night wind and I sniffed appreciatively. It was an intensely masculine aroma, and my palms grew sweaty as they clutched at my skirts. I held onto those bits of cloth like a lifeline, though it took every bit of will power I had not to run outside to stand beside him, linking my arm through his and look up at that solitary moon together. I could almost feel the strength of his shoulder as I leaned by head against it.

I sighed and turned away from the temptation that Mr. Masen presented. Aside from his extraordinary beauty, there was something about Mr. Masen that called out to me, made me forget all of the hard lessons that life had taught me. Desire was dangerous, only cool, hard logic and reason could protect me. I would be sensible, the sensible and respectable Mrs. Black – widow and mother.

The breeze picked up, flowing through the window and I felt my hair move with the wind. For just a moment, I was young and carefree again, running through the fields near my home, having escaped my mother's care. I remembered laughing so much as a girl, finding humor and joy in the simplest of things.

If only…

Dreams were such useless things, so I ruthlessly tucked mine away.

Edward's POV

The night was cool but invigorating. The boys were asleep at last, though I was fairly certain that there would some clean up required in the morning. I had distinctly heard the crack of wood as the boys carried on. And then the giggling. That was almost surely a sign of mischief managed. I shook my head and grinned as I heaved a sigh. The day had gone well, with Alex and Aaron at least. The elusive Mrs. Black had been as reserved and proper as ever.

She always looked so prim in her bland gowns of dove grey and steel blue, and not to neglect the always familiar black. It was easy to forget just how young she had to be when one observed her in her starched, high necked gowns, her hair tugged and tortured into submission, her face set in lines of grim fatigue and worry. Even her shoes were sensible, black laced-up boots that were remarkably ugly in their plainness. It worried me that I thought so much about her little feet, perhaps graced instead by fashionable little boots with pointed toes and daring heels, laced up with ribbons instead of plain laces.

Oh yes, those delicate feet would be set off to perfection. Often, I imagined her in nothing much more than the delicate footwear I wished to give her. I tried to push the thought away, knowing it would only lead to discomfort for myself. Looking down, I realized it was too late. I would have to find some relief tonight.

I had been doing so with more frequency than I had done even when I was a teenaged boy, just discovering the marvelous joys of my sexuality. Privacy was available, though not plentiful, but I managed. Even here. Even in Mrs. Black's home.

Behind me, I heard a small gasp. It seemed I was not alone in my restlessness tonight.

Ah, Mrs. Black. I wondered what had distressed her, if perhaps the accounts had been less than hoped. She would be in her study, having just finished with the books and weary at the end of a long day. How I longed to soothe away the marks of worry, that line between her brows that appeared when she was particularly fretful or preoccupied. Her little mannerisms were becoming clearer to me with each passing day in her presence. The restless flutter of her hands when she was nervous, the way she would clutch them together as soon as she became aware of the motion. The soft sigh she would give as she closed the account books, a putting away of a distasteful but necessary chore that had been accomplished. I knew that when she brought her delicate hands to her neck that she had been sitting still for too long and I wanted to rub the muscles that pained her, hear her moan softly as the pain became pleasure. And then there was that bottom lip!

Oh the fantasies that little bit of flesh had ignited in my feverish mind!

Sometimes, when she did not think I was aware of it, she would worry that plump lower lip with her little white teeth. Usually I had to go through my grandmother-Emmett-dead puppy litany several times in order to remain decent around her. Every time I saw those teeth chewing at that lip I wanted to suck it into my mouth so that I could bite it for her.

I closed my eyes and let the sounds of the night carry me to my most cherished fantasy. Mrs. Bl… Bella would sneak up behind me and wrap her arms around my waist. And I would tease her and call her Sarah or Maria or even Mrs. Kendall – she would laugh and then give me a playful pinch as punishment. Then I would turn and gather her into my arms and rest my chin upon her dark, silken hair. It would be loose and cascading down her shoulders in preparation for us to retire to our bed. I would delve my hands into it as I brought my lips to hers and she would sigh sweetly, surrendering her body to me with joy.

I would carry her up the stairs and kick open the bedroom door. We would laugh and stop for a moment to make sure we had not woken the boys. Then Bella would giggle, covering her mouth as her eyes watched me latch the door. We would not want to be disturbed. I would shrug off my shirt and she would dance to the other side of the room, giving me a teasing glance over her shoulder as she began to undo the thirty-seven buttons that ran up the front of her gown.

Leaning against the door, I would watch her carefully, counting the buttons as they slid free of the fabric. On the last one, she would give her shoulders a little shake and the bodice of her dress would fall, freeing her alabaster flesh to my hot gaze. Then the skirt, a quick tug and the fastening would be untied and it too, would slip free of her body. Then nothing but the fine lawn of her chemise would be in my way and I would be able to see her rosy nipples pebbling in anticipation.

I would growl when her hands moved to take away that barrier and she would swallow hard, knowing I meant to remove that myself. I would stalk toward her, holding out my hand. "You know what you want, Bella," I would murmur, putting every bit of passion and lust I felt into my words. My voice would be low and husky with want and her breath would quicken, the blood rushing to paint her cheeks with alluring color.

"I want you," she would answer with a shy smile.

And the absolute aching need would unfurl inside of me and I would grab her to me, perhaps rougher than I intended but she would relish it, moaning as she clutched me to her with equal fervor. "Edward," her soft voice would echo in our bedroom. "Take me…"

With an abrupt groan, stifled and stilled by biting my own lip, I threw my cigar to the ground and stomped on it with my boot. If only…

It was a useless dream, just another way to torture myself.

I pushed it away and retired to my solitary bed.