Her Unexpected Affair (The Robinsons) (35 page)

“We’ll take a quick tour of the ground floor, then head up.”

“Very good, sir.”

Martin headed up the wide stone stairs, his arms loaded with suitcases. Meilin felt guilty for packing two, but not knowing what she’d need…oh well. Drew had stuck to one, but as he’d said, he had a closet full of clothes not only here, but also at the house in California. She didn’t have any such luxury.

“Come on.” Drew took her hand and led her into a grand foyer paneled with what looked like hand carved oak.

“Is this all original?” She spun in place, taking in the hall that looked like a set from Henry VIII.

“Every bit,” Drew confirmed.

The wood glowed from centuries of polishing. A few treasures hung from the walls; old swords, a shield, paintings of people in period dress ranging from stiff ruffed collars to Victorian bustles.

“There are more modern paintings around the house. Up the stairs, along the halls, a few in the library.” When she’d made a full circle, Drew grabbed her hand and towed her toward the first of many closed doors. “The front drawing room.”

Meilin was speechless with wonder. A state she retained while Drew led her from room to room. The library was the coziest. The long dining hall the most impressive with its darkened solid oak beams overhead and a table large enough to sit forty.

“We can squeeze fifty in here for Christmas.”

“Fifty people at one table?” Meilin strolled the length of the room. “It’s amazing. I can almost hear the musicians playing while the guests eat, drink, and be merry.”

“It’s a pretty big deal.” Drew stood watching her, hands stuck in his pockets.

There were two doors at the back flanking a fireplace large enough to stand in.

Drew nodded at them. “Those doors lead to a very modern kitchen. Bea’s mark on the house. It was originally a butler’s pantry, but she wanted the kitchens moved up from the cellar, so she added on and rearranged things a bit.”

“It’s amazing, Drew. This is like walking into history.” The panels on the walls were smooth under her fingers. Probably due to very liberal doses of oil over the years. The light came through glass panes wavy with age.

“The bedrooms upstairs are more modern. Well, if you consider the Victorian period modern.”

Meilin laughed. “Compared to the Tudor years, it sure is.”

“We had a morning room down here until last year, but when Grandmother broke her hip, Dad had it converted to a bedroom with handicapped accessible en suite and sitting area. It’s where Grandmother hangs out when she’s here. The old bird is done with stairs, and Dad’s not likely to install an elevator any time soon.”

One of the doors from beside the fireplace swung open, and a cart loaded with plates and silverware was pushed through by a tall, thin woman with a shock of red curly hair barely contained in a ponytail.

“Mr. Drew!” she exclaimed in a bright Irish accent. Meilin figured she was in her mid thirties, not much older than she.

“Cook!” Drew replied, taking long steps until he reached her and gave her a big hug. “We’re home for a bit.”

“Go on with you now.” Blushing like a teenager, she pushed him away with a laugh. “A tray’s just gone up to your chambers for you and your lady.”

“Cook, I want you to meet Miss Meilin Wu. She’s one of Lynford’s newest employees.” He turned and stretched out his hand for Meilin. “Meilin, this is Sally O’Brien, also known as Cook around here. No finer chef in this part of England, I dare say, possibly all of England. She keeps us well-fed. Has been with the family since she was barely out of chef school when I was a tot.”

“No better family to do for.” Sally gathered her apron and gave a short curtsy. “Now don’t let your tea grow cold and let me get about setting up for dinner.”

Meilin eyed the cart. Seemed to her like there were enough plates for at least a dozen people, maybe more. Big dinner tonight?

“All right, ye bossy one,” Drew drawled. “We’ll get out of your hair. Want to wash the plane smell off and get a couple winks of shut eye.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sally,” Meilin said. “Looking forward to dinner tonight.”

“Nothing but the best.” The woman grinned, then made shooing motions to get them on their way.

“She seems very nice. Also looks like a large dinner party tonight,” Meilin said as Drew led her up a wide staircase with the promised ancestors hanging on the wall.

“I suppose Dad and Mum invited a few folks to meet you. Mostly relatives tucked up in nursing homes. Any excuse to break them out for an evening here and there.”

His casual tone was hiding something, but she was too tired, too fascinated with the house to call him on it. At the top they turned right and continued walking until the last door on the left.

“This is us. I just hope Mum hasn’t done too much redecorating.” Drew turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Another room that took Meilin’s breath away. The first thing she saw was an enormous bed on the left wall, two heavily draped windows on the far side. A fireplace was centered on the right wall lined with more oak panels. In front of the fireplace two wing chairs upholstered in navy sat at an angle, a tea table holding a loaded tray between them.

“This is a Victorian fantasy,” she said. The hand carved bed was the most solid one she’d ever seen. The tall posts held up a carved canopy and heavy navy blue velvet drapes hung at each corner. The massive headboard had to weigh four hundred pounds on its own. At the footboard sat a large, solid wooden chest.

“Just a room,” Drew said.

Meilin glanced at him and caught his grin.

“Figured you’d like it,” he added, then pointed at two doors flanking the fireplace. “One on the left is the bathroom, the one on the right the closet, which is probably where Martin put the suitcases. Both are a little cramped as they were once one large dressing room.”

“It’s a wonderful room.” She ran a hand down the bed curtains, enjoying the soft velvet. “Immaculately kept.”

“I’m pretty sure the room’s had a pretty good airing out recently.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, setting his chin on her shoulder. “A spot of tea first, or would you rather take a long soak in the tub?”

“Tub?”

Drew chuckled. “A very fine extra large claw footed tub. Much like the one in your apartment, only big enough for two. I had an ancestor who loved their baths and he installed the finest available back in the day. Of course we’ve updated the plumbing, but where possible, retained the finer fixtures, or had them restored, and when they were too damaged, had as true to the period replicates installed. Fortunately, my rooms are fairly authentic, as are Dad and Mum’s. A few bedrooms were lost when converted to en suites. Everyone wants their own bathroom these days.”

Under Drew’s hands, her stomach rumbled.

“Guess that answers that question. Kick off your shoes, m’lady and let’s dig in while the tea is hot and the scones are fresh.”

Meilin reluctantly let him pull away. “Yes, I’m a little hungry, feeling a tad grimy, and would dearly love a nap.”

Drew glanced at a clock on the mantel—also hand-carved oak—and said, “We have about three hours until it’s time to gather for before dinner drinks. Let’s take full advantage.”

He led her to a chair in front of the fireplace. “Not yet cool enough for a fire, but maybe later tonight.”

“This looks fine.” Cook had outdone herself, and Meilin didn’t know whether to start with the scones drenched in clotted cream and strawberry jam, the variety of finger sandwiches, or the fresh looking raspberry tarts.

She curled up in one chair and watched as Drew poured tea from a fine china pot into delicate porcelain cups.

“Probably the oolong,” he said.

She let him add cream and one sugar. If she was going to die and go to heaven here, might as well go down with as many sweet calories as possible. When he held a tart in front of her lips, she opened up and bit down on the best treat she’d ever tasted. “Oh. My. God,” she mumbled around the mouthful.

“Never going to find a better tart anywhere in England, I might even dare to say the world.”

He sat in the opposite chair and fed her bites of delectable treats between sips of tea until she couldn’t take another bite.

“Mum says she’s afraid to spend too much time here. Seems to think we’ll have to use a piano case to bury her if she eats like this every day.”

“I can appreciate her worry.” Meilin wiped her fingers on a linen napkin. “That was so good. I hope your father pays Cook very well.”

“She’s been here twenty years, so I’d say she’s happy with her lot in life.”

“She made it through chef’s school as a teenager?”

Drew’s laugh filled the room. “She was twenty-five when she started here.” He stood and reached for Meilin’s hand. “Time for a soak? Or would you rather nap first?”

“I’m too grimy to climb into those fresh sheets. Bath first.”

The glow in Drew’s eyes inspired her cheeks to heat. “Excellent. I’ll play lady’s maid and help you prepare.”

“I’ll help you prepare.” She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “You need a bath too.”

Didn’t have to ask him twice. Meilin found herself stripped and in a tub filling with hot water, Drew at her back, in a matter of a minute. She was even more surprised when he reached for a jar of peach colored bath salts and dumped a large handful in.

“Mmm, smells good.”

“Not as good as you.” He nuzzled her nape where a few strands escaped her hastily twisted knot of hair.

As the water rose, she leaned back in his arms, not one bit surprised when his hands found and cupped her breasts. Judging by the column of hard flesh against her backside, the bathroom would probably end up better soaked than they would.

“Turn off the water with your toe, would you?” His lips moved against her neck.

Not easy to do, especially with him tormenting her neck and nipples, she somehow managed the job by the time the water was two inches from the rim of the tub.

Since they’d already established equal opportunity teasing was fair, and expected, she reached behind her back with one hand until she found him just the way she liked him, hard and ready to please her.

As her hand tightened around him, his fingers tightened ever so slightly on her nipples, pinching and rolling them until she squirmed.

“I seem to have caught a mermaid. I surely can’t resist the siren’s song,” he spoke through increasing harsher breaths.

“Oh, I’m better than a mermaid.”

“How’s that?”

“Did you never wonder how a human male could make love to a mermaid? For that matter, how does a merman make love to a mermaid?”

“Unless it’s all by mouth, hmm, I suppose you have a good point there.” He groaned as her hand traveled up his length and her hand cupped the tip. “I seem to have miscalculated the order of events here.”

“Oh?”

“We should have gone to bed first and saved the bath for after.”

Meilin laughed low and throaty. “No, the order of events is fine. I feel much fresher already. After more than fifteen hours since my last bath, there is no way I’d taste, or smell, very good. I love you, darling, but I prefer clean flesh when making love.”

“You always smell, and taste, scrumdiddlyumptious to me.” Drew flexed his hips enough he slid through her hand. “You feel even better.”

“Scrumdiddlyumptious?” The delicious streams of arousal twisting from her nipples to between her thighs made it hard to follow any type of conversation, especially one with such a silly word that made her think of chocolate.

“I grew up with Roald Dahl. Dad read me
Charlie And The Chocolate Factory
quite early on. First chapter book I read by myself.”

“I love the movie. The first one.”

“I bet you taste great with chocolate smeared all over you.”

Just the thought of him licking chocolate off her… They’d have to try that. Whipped cream too.

Without warning, his hands left her breasts and moved to her shoulders. Before she could figure out his move, he had her flipped over and facing him. His ran his hands down her back until he cupped her bottom and lifted her against him. “Straddle me, woman.”

There was just enough room for her knees to squeeze his hips in the tub. She rubbed up and down his erection, bringing forth a groan of pleasure from him.

“That’s right, drive me mad.” His fingers delved between her cheeks, touching the edges of her labia enough to heighten her lust. He lifted her, helping, driving her against him while she clutched his shoulders.

Because they’d had the tests, and she was on birth control, she readily slid over him without a condom, taking him in an inch before sliding up, then down again, taking a little more of him inside. Water didn’t make a great lubricant, but he had her hot enough it didn’t worry her too much. Slowly, inch by inch, she worked him into her. His face found a home between her breasts until he turned his head and took one into his mouth. The sucking motion of his mouth was timed perfectly with their efforts to fully join below. It didn’t take long for her to finally seat herself against his body, him deeply embedded in her.

“Yeah, that feels so good. I love being in you,” he said with a growl around a mouthful of her breast.

The feeling of pleasure was so great she couldn’t speak, only feel. Him hard inside her, her soft inside his mouth except for the nipple he pushed up as he suckled. Heart pounding, breath sawing in and out of her lungs, she moved with him. His hands pulled her open, allowing him to drive deeper. Eyelids too heavy to open, through her lashes she watched him watch her with equally heavy eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just like that.”

Flexing her hips, she rotated a little and stared back as his eyes darkened.

“You vixen.” His fingers gripped her rear, stroking the valley between, moving lower with each rise and fall of her lower body, until the tip of one finger rested where she’d never been touched before by a lover.

“Drew?” She stiffened.

“Relax. It’s okay.” The finger retreated. “We’ll talk about it another time.”

He latched on to her neglected breast and his other hand came around to the front of her body, sliding between them, finding her sensitive nub, stealing away all thoughts as he stroked her into resuming her movements.