In the days that follow I scarcely get to see much of Thomas, which confirms some of my worst fears.

Instead of returning to Allerdale Hall as planned, Lady Lucille decides to stay on at the inn, presumably so that she and Thomas can spend more time becoming better acquainted with Mr Harwood and his daughter.

I have no actual proof that Thomas is simply an heir-hunter, and if I'm honest with myself, I don't know which would be worse.....Thomas pursuing a woman solely for her fortune, or courting her because he is genuinely interested in finding a wife.

Either way, as one long day rolls into another, and I see less and less of him, it becomes increasingly apparent that he is willing to spend his time in her company, and therefore must be developing a fondness for her.

She is rather pretty, with her chestnut coloured curls, rosy complexion and dainty stature. She has neat features, and an elegant nose that turns up at the end.

In comparison, she makes me feel very unladylike and unattractive indeed.

Every day Thomas and Lucille venture out with the Harwoods, visiting local places of interest, such as the Museum, the large local park, and the theatre.

In the meantime, I remain mostly in my room, feeling dejected.
If it wasn't for Hannah's company, I think I would be in an asylum by now. Having gone mad from irrational jealousy.

I've no right to be jealous really. Thomas is not my intended or my suitor.
He isn't even my lover, not really, as we haven't actually made love.
Nor are we likely to.
Not now.

All I can do is observe him from a distance with his sister and Miss Harwood, and occasionally I get to be in his presence but I have to keep silent. Lady Lucille calls on me to fetch things for her from time to time, but I suspect that's merely to impress the Harwoods. She wants them to see she has a servant in tow.

I wish Thomas would summon me, but he doesn't. And whenever I'm sent for by Lucille, there's this unmistakable simmering tension, bubbling beneath the surface.
Lady Sharpe is hostile towards me, and I'm resentful of Miss Amy. Thomas is noticeably on edge and twitchy, whilst I'm burning to talk to him.
But I have absolutely no chance of having a moment with him alone.
And even though he isn't my lover, this doesn't stop me from feeling hurt.

I'm so pained by this period of separation, I find myself contemplating returning to Thaxted somehow, and going back to my family.
Severing all connections with Thomas might prove to be less painful than having to watch from afar, ignored, as he woos another woman.
If I leave, I'll be sparing myself further pain in the long run.

"You've fallen for him haven't you (Y/N)?" Hannah turns and says to me now, as she perches next to me on the end of my bed. "It's written all over your face. You've got it bad."

"I have not!" I argue defiantly, even though my blushes give me away. "How can I have fallen for him? I've not known him all that long."

Hannah shrugs, then places a comforting arm around my shoulders. "That's the thing with love, you don't choose it. It chooses us. You can't help how you feel. And he is devilish handsome." She pauses a moment, looking thoughtful. "But he's also a bit of a cad. Gallivanting around with that Amy Harwood, leaving you stuck in here all day by yourself."

I bristle with annoyance. She's hit a nerve, and the worst part is, she has a point.
Even though he's my master, and I've no right to complain, knowing what we've shared, he could at least make more of an effort to talk to me.
But still, I can't help defending him.

"He can't really go against Lady Lucille, Hannah. She's a raving lunatic. She's hit him before, you've seen his black eye? And she's threatened me. So he's bound to be scared of angering her."

Hannah sighs, seemingly unconvinced. "Then he should be a man about it, and put her in her place. If he really wanted to, he could."

I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly overcome by the urge to cry.
But I can't allow myself to crumble. This is ridiculous. I'm being pathetic.
If this is what unrequited love does to people, then I don't want no part of it.
And how could I possibly be in love? I keep trying to reason with myself that it's just infatuation. A crush.
But what if it is something more?
Can I afford to stick around and witness Thomas marrying someone else?
Even the thought of it makes my blood run cold, and my stomach turn.

"I think I need to leave." I say, for what seems like the hundredth time.
But this time I have the conviction I previously lacked.
I'm done with trying to make excuses for Thomas' loss of interest in me.

Hannah looks at me uncertain. "But how will you get back home, (Y/N)? It's a long way, and you have no money. Unless you ask Sir Thomas for some?"

"No! I don't want him to know I'm leaving. I'd rather just go. Besides, he doesn't owe me anything."

"But I think he'd--"

"No, Hannah. I will manage by myself."

Hannah shakes her head in despair. "You're so bloody stubborn and independent. But....I think I know someone who could help you. Jack, he drinks in here regular. He works as a postal clerk for the travelling post office."

Intrigued, I lean forward, eager to hear more. "The travelling post office?"

"Yes, the train that sorts the mail. I can have a word with him, and maybe he'll be able to sneak you onboard. He's done it before. At least then you can get back down South."

I smile at my new friend, grateful for her assistance and support. "Would you speak to him for me? Oh, thank you Hannah. That would make things a lot easier."

She nods slowly. "He'll most likely call in for an ale before he goes into town for the mayday celebrations. I'll speak to him then."

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Around midday, Hannah returns to my room to inform me that she's spoken to this Jack, and he's agreed to stow me away on the post train.
I pin up my hair, and hurry downstairs with her, to meet him.

Jack is a fair-haired young man, by the looks of things in his mid-twenties. He has a neatly trimmed moustache, and he's wearing a smart red and navy Royal Mail uniform.
He isn't actually half bad-looking, except he's a little on the short-side, and if I'm honest, not particularly my type, but undoubtedly I'm sure he must get his fair share of female attention.

Hannah introduces us, and I thank him for agreeing to help me.

"Don't mention it, my lovely." He drawls, eyeing me rather rudely up-and-down. "It's my pleasure to assist fair damsels in distress."

At first I feel a bit apprehensive, as he seems to be slightly drunk. But after I bid Hannah a fond farewell, and we leave, I decide that he's harmless enough.
In fact, Jack is most definitely funny.
He's jolly, and makes several jokes along the way into town, which I find hilarious. This contrast is striking, as he's nothing at all like the brooding, Thomas Sharpe.

As we arrive into Birmingham centre via the steam tram, my head is filled with conflicting thoughts.
Jack is chattering excitedly about the new electric trams that will soon be replacing steam operated ones, but I'm hardly listening. All I can think about is Thomas, and how much I am going to miss him.

The post train isn't due to leave the station until 5:00pm this evening, Jack tells me. So that gives us plenty of time to enjoy the May Day festivities.

The town is bustling. There's a colourful carnival parade, and games being played on the village green, along with prize stalls, and stands selling cool lemonade, alcohol, and cakes.

I'm not really in the mood for joviality, but I can't afford to dwell on my circumstances. I'm here and there's no going back, so I may as well try and make the most of it.

Jack buys us both gin and lemonade, which we drink sitting by the bandstand.
When we've finished, we have a game of horseshoes with a friendly couple, then we play croquet.

I've never played croquet before, and I can't refrain from giggling at Jack, who larks about a lot to make me laugh.
By the time we've had a few more drinks -- I have two more gins, whereas Jack has four -- I'm starting to feel a bit woozy.
I've never drank gin before, and I think it's gone straight to my head.
It takes the edge off my heartache, and lifts some of my cares from me, which is precisely what I need right now.

I've no idea what time it is, and I don't really care, as I find myself dancing around the maypole with several others.
The sun is shining, music is playing, and I'm lost in this new, colourful, swirling world.

When the dance is over, Jack kisses me.....and I let him.
I know it's not a good idea, but a selfish part of me is using him to try and forget.
Forget Thomas' kisses.
Jack is a distraction, but the kiss is quite sobering.
What if he expects more from me? Which I'm not prepared to give.
And I don't want to give him any false hope either.
Also, his lips make me yearn for Thomas.
No one kisses like he does. It just isn't the same, and in spite of the sunshine, the exchange leaves me feeling decidedly cold.

Jack doesn't seem to notice the way I tense up, nor does he detect my reluctance to kiss him back.
When he moves away, he smiles broadly at me, and says he's going to get us another drink.

He's barely been gone a minute though, when I glance around, and suddenly I can't believe my eyes.
Perhaps I'm lost in a daydream, or maybe it's the affects of the booze, but I see him...

Thomas.

Dressed smartly in his dark waistcoat and velvet tailcoat, and he's on a black horse.
A horse! Not even in a carriage, he's actually riding a horse.

He's on the road at the other side of the large green, and I can see his head turning this way and that. His eyes scanning the faces of passers by.
Searching.
I stand staring, open-mouthed, when really I ought to be losing myself in the crowd, because whilst I'm stood rooted to the spot by surprise, this gives him time to see me.

Dammit!

He immediately tugs on the reins, bringing his steed to a halt, then drops down from the saddle. Not seeming to care, he hastily secures the reins to some iron railings, and then he's coming.
Striding across the green in my direction.
Oh Lord, his expression is thunderous. He must be angry with me.

Without thinking clearly, I impulsively turn on my heel and begin to run.
I'm not sure why exactly, but I'm not thinking straight. All I know is, I left to be away from him, so I don't want to see him now. Especially when he's looking so furious.

Winding my way through the crowds, I make my way from the village green, onto the street. My heart is pounding and my head is reeling.
I chance a look over my shoulder and spot Thomas trailing behind.
He's following me.
Without giving the matter much consideration, I dart through the open door of a nearby, grand-looking building.
It takes me a moment to realise it's some sort of library. A very big library, as it has wide stairs that lead up to a second, then third floor.
It must belong to the university, I think, as I stumble my way up to the top.

I'm unsteady on my feet, and my legs stubbornly refuse to move as quickly as I need them to.

I'm out of breath by the time I dash into the musty-smelling room. It's deserted, and gloomy inside, with only slivers of light fighting their way in through the soot-stained, opaque windows.

Then I hear rapid footsteps echoing up the stairwell, so I scurry to the back of the room and hide behind the high bookshelves.

The footsteps enter the room and then stop.
"(Y/N)?" Thomas' beautiful voice calls out, a little breathy, a little desperate. "(Y/N) I know you're in here. Why are you hiding from me? This is all rather childish don't you think?"

He begins walking around, checking each aisle, and I know it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
I try to quieten my breathing, but lean back against a large desk that I didn't previously notice -- having mistaken it for another shelf -- and accidentally send an enormous pile of leather-bound books crashing to the floor.

Oh, bloody hell.

The noise immediately alerts Thomas to my location, and the next thing I know he's here, towering above me.
I swallow hard, feeling very foolish now for having caused such a fuss.

"(Y/N), what on earth are you doing? Why did you run from me?" He demands in a steely tone.

"I don't know." I answer honestly. "I just didn't want to face you, or have to explain my reasons for leaving. How did you even find me?"

"Hannah told me." He says, voice softening slightly.

My eyes widen in horror. "What?"

"When we arrived back at the inn, I slipped away in the hopes of seeing you. and instead found you gone. Hannah informed me that you'd left with some postal clerk. (Y/N), what were you thinking? Going off with a stranger like that, you don't know him--"

"I didn't know you!" I hurl at him haughtily, surprising myself. It seems the gin has given me the courage to speak my mind.

He looks shocked for a moment, as though he's just been slapped in the face. "Yes but I like to consider myself a gentleman. Don't you understand it isn't acceptable for a young lady to go off with a man in such a way? And especially without a suitable chaperone?"

I force a humourless laugh,which hurts my throat a little. "I'm a servant, not a lady. In your world, Thomas, having a chaperone might signify, but not to the likes of me."

"Don't talk like that!"

"Like what? It's only the truth! And besides, I went off with you alone in the carriage once. I didn't have someone to chaperone me then, and it didn't trouble you did it? Which is a bit hypocritical wouldn't you say?"

His beautiful eyes narrow and glitter with anger. "I am a peer. A respectable gentleman. Your well being is of the upmost importance to me. That man you left with could easily take advantage of you."

"He's been nothing but nice to me." I argue defiantly.

"Has my treatment of you ever been unkind?"

"Well no, but..." I falter slightly. Unsure of how to voice the words I want to say. "...you haven't spoken to me in days."

His dark brows dip into a deep frown. "I came to your room each night, but you were sleeping. You must understand, the hour is late by the time I retire to bed. And I wasn't able to knock your door very hard, for fear of rousing Lucille."

"O-oh."

This revelation takes me completely by surprise, so now I'm feeling even more foolish for my rash actions.
However, this still doesn't alter the fact that Thomas has been courting Miss Amy, and I know in my heart of hearts that I won't be able to stand by and watch their romance blossom.

"Once I learned of your departure I left Lucille and Miss Harwood without a word of explanation. I realise now that in my haste I could've ruined everything. Heaven knows how I'm going to explain such unusual behaviour." He says, looking perceptibly worried now. "Come, (Y/N), we must return. I will hire you a horse. Can you ride?"

"Yes I can but....I'm not coming back."

His eyes round. "What? Why ever not?"

"I just...I don't want to. I've changed my mind, I'm going back home."

"You're choosing to go with that man?"

"This isn't about him!"

His large hands grasp my shoulders then, and he brings his face closer. "Are you certain? Because I thought I saw you on the green, kissing a man, but I dismissed thoughts of it being you as I wouldn't consider you'd do such a thing. I didn't want to accept that it might be you."

I lower my eyes, refusing to meet his intense gaze.

"Was that you? (Y/N), tell me!"

"So what if it was?" I reply flippantly, as I don't care for his tone or his hypocrisy. "You've no doubt kissed Miss Amy by now. You're not my master anymore, you can't tell me what to do!"

His expression tightens from a look of tolerance to fury, but then he tilts his head to one side. Seemingly having caught the scent of alcohol on my breath. Or perhaps it's the bleary look in my eyes.

"You're drunk!" He blusters, in an accusatory voice. "That man is an unmitigated arse! He's no doubt done this deliberately. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for him to take advantage of you in such a state? To....to perhaps force his attentions on you, whilst you're inebriated and vulnerable?"

"I don't care!"

"How can you say such a thing? Do you...do you desire him?" His hold on my arms tightens possessively.

"No! Of course not! But Lucille was right, I'm not your responsibility, Thomas. Just let me go. I'm not returning with you and you can't make me!"

"I would never force you into doing anything against your wishes. But the least you can do is tell me why the sudden change of heart? Why would you want to leave me?"

His words pierce my heart like a well-aimed arrow, and I can't stand this anymore. "I don't want to leave you. Thomas, I would never want to leave you....but I can't... I can't bear to see you fall in love with another."

"Fall in love? Oh, (Y/N), is that what you truly think? There is no chance of that happening. I do not desire Amy Harwood. And I highly doubt that I will ever desire another as I.....as I desire you." He pauses for a moment, as he continues to hold onto me in a tightening grasp. "You alone intrigue me, possess me, torment me with thoughts of making you mine."

I exhale shakily, my eyes momentarily closing whilst processing his words which are so ardent and raw.

There is nothing delicate about the way he's holding me. His iron grip isn't unbearably painful, but it has never been like this before. The atmosphere around us is fraught with a charged sort of tension. It crackles in the air, making my skin tingle, heating my insides.
He seems desperate, and fiercely possessive. And the unfamiliar combination of alcohol mingled with desire, causes my body to shake in an odd trembling rhythm against him, as I feel the impulse to cast aside all my inhibitions

And let him make me his.

Warring with the illicit pleasure he is evoking, I try to conceal it. But my heart swells with anxious happiness and tears fill my eyes at his unexpected, almost unwilling, worship.
The naked emotion evident in his eyes and tone, increases my need for tenderness.
Increases my need for him.

As if sensing this, his face comes even closer, and he presses his thin lips to mine.
The kiss is ardent, hungry, and urgent. His tongue pushes my quivering lips apart, and I accept him into my mouth, where he probes and takes little sips of my breath. He seems greedy for me, as I am for him, and it's like he just isn't able to get close enough.

But the nagging voice in the back of my mind returns, refusing to be quietened, even by the heat of our passion. It grows increasingly louder, annoyingly forcing itself to be heard.

As much as I want him, and want him to want me, how much longer can I put myself through this sweet torture?

What exactly does he want of me? To completely surrender what remains of my virtue?
To relieve me of my virginity?
And if I let him have it, then what?
Even though I ache for him, what happens once I succumb to his lustful advances? Will he tire of me and cast me aside?

It's this harrowing thought that compels me to place my hands against his sturdy chest, and half-heartedly make a feeble attempt to shove him away.

"T-Thomas...." I manage weakly. "....What do you want?"

His arms tighten around me, and he buries his face in my hair, nuzzling into my neck.

"Don't....don't ask me that." He rasps, his husky voice tickling my ear. "The answer...the answer could be dangerous."

Dangerous? Surely that can only possibly mean one thing. That he does want to rob me of my virginity. Which would of course compromise me. Ruin my reputation. What he doesn't understand though is whilst compromising a lady's reputation is seen as a social scandal, it doesn't necessarily mean social ruin amidst the lower classes.

Besides if anyone were to ruin me, I'd want it to be him.
However, I'm trying to be guarded because I don't want to get hurt.
But I never want to be apart from him. I'm already hopelessly his.

Reaching up, I slide my hands into his glorious mane of thick hair, tracing small circles on his scalp with my fingertips.
His breathing grows increasingly heavy, as his hot lips scorch a path down my neck, kissing the tender spot at the base of my throat where my heartbeat pulsates wildly.

"(Y/N) tell me to stop." He says unsteadily. "Tell me not to touch you. Tell me it's enough now. Tell me!"

Defiant, and perversely curious, I press my body flush against his unyielding masculine frame, absorbing the heat that radiates from his body in sensual waves.

In the heat of the moment, I forget all else. Even our surroundings fade into non-existence, as my mind is filled with inappropriate thoughts.
My longing has been replaced by need.
I need him to devour me, to fill me, to take full possession of my body and claim me.

"Oh....God in heaven." He husks pleadingly, sounding helpless as if hoping for divine intervention. Deliverance from temptation.

My hands clutch at him in desperation, as we suddenly become a tornado of hands, and arms, and mouths. All the longing and need that has built up, now clamours for release, and no other man will do.

It has to be Thomas.

He rolls his solid, and shockingly virile body against mine. And I find myself despising clothing, I want to see him properly, to feel him, but alas, this isn't the place to be shedding our garments.
This isn't the place to be doing what we are doing, but the fact that it is forbidden adds an element of danger, which only serves to excite us both further.

The sound of my blood roars in my ears, as my heart beats faster and faster. Somehow during all the kissing and clutching, my dress becomes unlaced once more, as he takes my breasts in a slow roll of his hands. And Thomas' waistcoat and shirt come unbuttoned. I slide my hands inside the material, my fingers caressing the lean muscle, and smooth chest that lies beneath.

I know I should behave a little more ladylike, but I honestly don't have enough blood flowing to my brain right now. I don't even care that we're in a public place.
I want this to happen, and I'm filled with exhilarated fear.
Terrified of how far this is going to go. Terrified of what this older, more experienced man, might do to me next. But most of all I'm terrified he'll come to his senses and not be able to face doing any of it.

There is more kissing, and then some cannoning off the bookshelves. We inadvertently knock more books from the shelves, but Thomas doesn't seem to care either, as he pushes me back against a shelf, hooking my leg over his hip.

"I mustn't." He gasps, warring with himself. Clearly he's being pushed beyond the boundaries of self-restraint, and desperately trying to regain a modicum of control.
But I hold him tightly, unrelentingly searching out his tongue with my own.
I may be a novice, but my enthusiastic efforts pay off, as he lets out an uncharacteristic whimper.

To my delight, his kisses  grow ever more carnal, more sensual. Instinctively we both seem to know that we're slaves to desire now and it isn't sugary sweetness or gentleness that either of us need from each other.
We've reached fever-pitch, and he whirls me around with mastery, so that I'm sat on the edge of the desk.

Thomas reaches down and pushes up the heavy fabric of my dress with one hand, the other resting on the round joint of my knee. After a moment, his hand slides upward and he gives me no opportunity to object, as his mouth occupies my own once more with breathless kisses. I feel his hand gliding up toward the seam of my thigh, then I jerk as he traces the shape of my sex through the gauzy linen of my knickers.

A deep flush swells throughout my entire body, making my limbs buzz and throb with need. After what feels like an eternity of sweet torment, he pulls open the lace-edged slit of my undergarment.

I can hardly breath. Expecting him to perhaps fondle me sensually like he did the night when we pleasured each other with intimate caresses.
Or, perhaps a small part of me is expecting him to take me right here and now.
Though it seems highly unlikely, Thomas' aristocrat breeding would never allow him to become a slave to such primal desires. To ravish me in a public place, when we could be interrupted at any moment, well...it would be social suicide for one of his rank.
He'd never live it down or be forgiven for such scandalous behaviour.

What I don't expect is for him to suddenly lower his head, and instinctively I try to clamp my trembling knees together. But he holds them in a firm grasp and pushes them apart, before settling himself between my thighs.

"T-Thomas! What are you doing--?" The inquiry barely makes it passed my throat, when he suddenly presses his sinful mouth to my lady parts, his lips melding with the lips of my sex.

I give an agitated gasp, twisting slightly, shocked and confused and a little aghast at such an unspeakable, illicit act.

But heaven help me, it feels alarmingly good.

"I must at least have you this way." He murmurs against my flesh. "I must have some part of myself inside you. I want to feel you come apart on my tongue."

My hands tangle in his dark curls, twisting and tugging in desperation as I writhe to escape the maddeningly sensitive yet incredible sensation of his velvety tongue nudging between my throbbing folds, teasing me apart as though he were playing with the petals of an unopened rose.

His large hands hold me pinned in place as my body arches up off the hard surface of the bench. There's no escaping the glorious invasion, as he delves deeper and deeper into my slick entrance, and I don't want to escape it.

The familiar tightening begins low in my belly, where it gathers heat and I feel my pulse thrumming at my groin. All the while, he goes on plundering my very core, devouring me like an offering of life-giving elixir, as though he's ravenous for me.

"T-Thomas--!" I whimper helplessly, feeling my toes curl inside my shoes.

He's lapping at me greedily, and lets out a lustful purr from low down in his throat, putting me in mind of a cat. But he's transformed from being a sweet, tame cat, to a wild, insatiable panther.

"(Y/N).......oh, you taste exquisitely good."

He swirls his tongue around inside the wet, warm channel, exploring me with unrestrained, erotic enthusiasm. And I can feel myself nearing....nearing the peak of my climax.

I'm aware of how wet I've become, and find it painfully embarrassing, but it only seems to fuel his lustful craving, as he continues to lick and suckle the most sensitive part of my sex. Stimulating the little bundle of nerves, the expert, fluttering dips tantalise and tease me to the brink of insanity. And then suddenly with the softest flick of the very tip of his tongue, he sends me hurtling over the edge into blissful ecstasy.

I cry out as white-hot shards of pleasure splinter through my tingling body, rendering me temporarily paralysed by the euphoric intensity of it.

My vision fades to black for a moment as I'm swept away by wave after wave of pure physical sensation. My heart is careening in my chest, my breathing shallow and ragged, and it's only the sound of Thomas' sweet voice that pulls me from my blissful reverie.

"Are you....are you alright?" He pants.

I nod weakly, hardly daring to cast an apprehensive look down at his handsome face.

I force my limp body to sit up, and hastily rearrange my underwear. My cheeks flush hot as Thomas assists by pulling my dress back down. He looks decidedly repentant for his lascivious behaviour. For his loss of self-restraint.

"Oh, God....(Y/N). I'm so sorry." He moves and cups my face in his capable hands. "I should not have lost control and given in to my baser urges. You deserve better than this, to be subjected to my debauchery."

"Thomas, don't apologise. You're not subjecting me to anything. I...I liked it. And you know, it isn't very nice having you beg my pardon each time we share an intimate moment."

His face visibly flushes with heat, though it's due to embarrassment now and not the amorous exploits he's been engaging in between my thighs. I notice, to my immense shame, that his lips are moist, glistening with my arousal.

"But I shouldn't be handling you like some tavern doxy. I ought to be making love to you in a more appropriate setting. In a grand bed, in comfort and warmth. In privacy. Somewhere where we can take our time, and lose ourselves in each other completely."

Completely.

A thrill runs through me at the implication. Yet that lingering apprehensiveness remains. What if he only desires me so ardently because he can't yet have me completely?
Although. He could've taken me if he'd had the inclination to. Instead, he'd chosen to forgo his own needs and pleasure me. To exercise some self-control. Perhaps to open me up to new experiences, seeing as how I'm still a novice. Or maybe just to pacify his carnal urges for the time being.

I smile at him reassuringly and place a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. "Perhaps we could make love in a bed....next time?" I venture, hopefully.

"Yes. That sounds like a marvellous suggestion."

"And....and maybe then you would let me do the same for you?"

A crease appears between his dark brows. "Do the same for me?"

I lower my eyes bashfully. "Yes. Pleasure you, as you have just done for me."

This gives him serious pause, as though giving the matter considerable thought. At first I'm inclined to think he's going to decline such an offer, but then his eyes take on a devilish gleam, and in spite of himself, he smiles back, coyly.

"The pleasure would be all mine, darling."