Tewkesbury POV, Autumn 1889
Tewkesbury reopened his eyes. Wrong, completely wrong. Enola wasn't naked, but she was wearing a light cotton garment akin to a union suit that showed off her soft curves. It covered her from her knees to her collarbones and was decorated with tiny gathers and lace.
Feeling callous, he brought his eyes back to hers. They sparkled with amusement in the dim candlelight.
"Yes, they are new, they're called combinations," she helpfully answered the questions he hadn't thought to ask yet, "I bought them with the pay from the Delafield-Thompson case."
"They're… Um..." Tewkesbury struggled to find words as he stared into Enola's eyes which were now sparkling with something darker than amusement.
Luckily for him and his newfound inarticulation, whatever emotion her eyes conveyed brought her back to him, kissing his jaw playfully and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. A voice inside his head hissed that it wasn't the decent thing to have it off in front of her, to which he hissed back that they had toed the line of decency the moment he pulled her into the dark hallway. He shooed away the last thoughts of rationality and propriety in his brain, knowing that she was silently asking for him to take it off.
He complied, dropping the shirt and undershirt to the floor next to Enola's wrapper. The cuff links and collar pins made an awful clinking sound as they hit the tiled floor, but they barely noticed, too focused on warm bare arms around each other and returning their lips to their dance of lechery. Somewhere in their passionate kiss they started moving backward until Enola's back, slightly protected by Tewkey's arms, hit a wall, the momentum pressing all of him flush against her.
Her cheeks blushed further and her eyes turned to saucers, an expression Tewkesbury was certain was mirrored on his own face. He pulled away slightly to speak.
"My apologies Miss Holmes," his flustered and apologetic voice was apparently overly formal, "It was an accident, we should..."
Enola interrupted him again, pressing a finger to his lips and slowly dragging her hand down his chest towards his right hip. "No." She shook her head, almost imperceptibly letting her eyes drop downward for a second, before putting on her most innocent smile.
"Really, Enola?" Tewkesbury asked, the incident shocking a bit of rationality back into him, "I know you do not care for propriety, but if we so much as get caught alone together..."
"We'd be forced to marry?" Enola shot back as if he was being ridiculous.
"Yes," He conceded, "But it would be a huge scandal, my standing in society would be tainted, and yours would be ruined, no one would think you decent enough to work for them."
"You would let me work once we are married?" She asked, taken aback.
"That's what you got from that?" Tewkesbury rolled his eyes, but then turned sweet, "But yes, as long as you aren't being too reckless, I never thought I had the choice to stop you."
Before he had finished the sentence Enola threw her arms around him, like a child thankful for an extravagant present.
Very unlike a child, she kissed him, once again shooing away his rationality. He gave into it, kissing her with increased fervour and running his hands across her body, one settling on her shoulder and the other kneading softly at the folds of fabric covering her behind.
Enola brought one of her hands back to his hair, teasing it slightly while she made soft noises in response to his attentions. The feeling sent sparks down Tewkesbury's spine, making his hips arch forward and his hands grab at the fabric. Oddly, it moved more than he expected. He repeated the action, sans ungentlemanly bucking, and once again the fabric moved across her skin with ease.
By now Enola had a curious look on her face, evidently wondering what he was doing. Tewkesbury slid his hand across to the other cheek and felt bare skin for a second. Skin? Maybe he had torn them accidentally. She laughed, slightly pink with embarrassment, seeming to understand something he didn't.
He blurted a curse he had never said in front of a woman before when he realised why she was laughing. Open, completely open. He could have fainted in shock. Or desire.
"All ladies' drawers are split Tewkesbury," Enola explained like she was telling him that snow is cold, "It would take an hour to powder one's nose otherwise."
She was going to give him a heart attack, pure and simple. Pulling him to her body, stripping down to garments that bared hidden parts of her to the world in front of him, talking about nose powdering. It was too much. The parts of him that weren't wishing their wedding night was eight days away instead of eight months were shocked and angry that she would act so brazenly.
Enola must have noticed the messy amalgamation of emotions he was feeling because she had stepped away from him and started picking up her wrapper.
"Given my attire has offended you," She spoke a little too forcefully, like she trying to hide her hurt, "I will go to bed."
"Wait Enola," Tewkesbury grabbed her hand as she turned away from him, "I am feeling many things right now, but offence is not one of them."
She raised her eyebrows dubiously, "Like what?" Enola snapped, "Disgust? Appall? Vexation?"
"No," he almost yelled before softening his voice, "Maybe a bit angry and frustrated because you seem to have no idea how you make me feel."
"I would assume you feel the same way I do," Enola had calmed down now, still holding her wrapper in one hand, and Tewkesbury's hand in the other, "Warm, impatient, a little giddy."
Tewkey couldn't help but smile dumbly at her description, because, well yes, he felt those things; but it was bigger than that. "Do you know how much I want to touch you?" he asked earnestly, then added, "To have you?"
"Were you not touching me without a regard for propriety ten minutes ago?" Enola looked at him curiously, "And I don't think any man will ever own me, even if you do marry me, Viscount Tewkesbury."
"Only your fool of a brother would ever try to own you, my sweet, but I don't mean it like that," He joked before clarifying, "I told you before that there is a specific process that is performed to create a child."
Enola nodded, looking like she was trying to hold her tongue so Tewkesbury would explain everything to her.
"That is what I mean when I say I want to have you," He hated to let her down, but it wasn't something he should be telling, "And I don't want you to be forced to marry me because of a child, or a scandal, you deserve to make the choice."
She looked up at him, like she was trying to decide whether or not to kiss him again.
"But that does not mean the waiting - and watching you act so unabashedly - is not har… difficult." He quickly corrected his choice of adjective, before chuckling at himself.
"I suppose I want to have you too, or at least I would if I knew what that meant." Enola smiled teasingly, unaware of the torture her words were to him.
Tewkesbury kissed her hungrily, making her abandon the wrapper in search of purchase on his body. It was really the only good response his brain could offer.
His hands itched to explore the skin that her choice of garment bared, but he kept them stubbornly on her soft waist, even while Enola's own hands slid more boldly over his bare chest than ever before. Fortunately, holding her like this kept her still so she couldn't squirm out of his grasp while he ran a line of ticklish kisses from her shoulder, over her collarbone, and up to her ear. The noises it brought forth from her were like nothing Tewkey had heard before.
At this point, an entirely wicked idea jumped into his head, flooding his imagination. He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes.
"Do you remember me telling you that couldn't become with child from me simply touching you under your clothes?" Tewkesbury asked thoughtfully, through rushed breath.
"I remember almost every daft thing you have ever said to me since you emerged from that dusty carpet bag." Enola smiled at him wryly.
"And you trust that I would never lie to you about that?"
"I don't see why I shouldn't, you are just as likely to be downed by a scandal caused by such things."
"I would like to touch you then, to drive you to make more of those delightful noises."