49

S taring down at Florence, I found myself at odds.

The moments before were hazy and lust-filled. The sounds she made still seemed to echo around the empty Manor, a heavenly song I hoped would never stop playing. I knew the moment Wes returned that he would know. There was no hiding how I felt anymore—not after having her like that. Undone, raw, and honest, it was like nothing I had ever felt and, as my logical brain screamed for caution, my heart whispered its cravings through the white noise.

“Florence?” I spoke her name, but she hummed and kissed a lazy line across my chest in her euphoric daze. “How are you feeling?” I asked her again, knowing she would lie if it made me happy. I knew that within the hour the pain would have dissipated. I’ve watched her heal bullet wounds in less time. It didn’t matter to her, but it bothered me.

Florence didn’t answer; she just continued tracing her finger along my tattoos with a delicate, sleepy smile. She was sore. I could tell by how she shifted in my arms, prompting my next move. I turned from beneath her, a tiny whimper falling from her as I moved to roll my trousers up and over my hips, leaving them unbelted. They hung low on my hips.

”Come,” I bent down, gathering her discarded skirts and corset in a bunch and handing them to her before lifting her and pressing her to my chest. I kissed her temple, unable to resist as she snuggled into my touch, half asleep.

“Where are we going?” She asked as I carried her through the empty foyer and up the grand staircase to the bedrooms. The only room in the house that had never moved was hers, and the door was open when I reached the top of the stairs.

“Now I thank you, for trusting me with you,” I mused and gently set her on the bed.

“Clay–” Her hand trailed down my arm, catching my fingers as I pulled away.

“Florence,” I laughed, leaning back for a kiss. Her chin tilted to meet mine, our lips grazing one anothers. I could feel her pouty bottom lip as I pulled away and entered the bathroom.

I looked back at her once from the threshold and traced my eyes down her beautiful back. She gripped the corset, holding it to her chest, the rest of the fabric loose and undone. She looked peaceful—heavenly. I stared for a moment longer, memorizing the shape of her curves and each perfect freckle that marked her pale skin. Slowly, all thoughts of Florence would drown the worry that gripped me.

It was only that morning I had found the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. It wasn’t big but supported a large tub against the tiled West wall. Much to my surprise it was in pristine condition. No cobwebs in the corners, or mold on the window sill. No signs of any poor disrepair or abandonment of any kind. This room looked as if it had been newly renovated. There were taps and faucets at the sink and, bizarrely, at the large clawfoot tub. No indoor plumbing had been a big bone of contention with Wes about staying in the Manor, this hadn’t been here before. It had taken me a whole five minutes of opening and closing the door to realize I wasn’t seeing things. It wasn’t as loud as the rest of the house, with simple wallpaper and tiles. Dark wood surrounded the base of the old sink, and one tall wardrobe stored linens and soap.

The water ran warm almost instantly, the house creaking as I turned the metal knobs. I could have sworn I heard it wailing as though it was crying, but all the noise faded into a hum when I saw Florence standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” She asked me.

Her hair fell in messy waves that framed her round face and her smile was soft and quizzical as she watched me carefully prepare the tub.

“Running you a bath, it will help with the soreness,” I explained, walking toward her.

“Running?” She questioned, her eyes shifting to the tap with confusion.

“Filling?” I changed the term but her confusion remained.

“I’ve never seen the Manor do such a thing…” she said quietly. “The tub is usually just— full.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a small wonderous laugh.

A nervous pause was followed by, “—The Manor provides.” There was that term again. Confusing and almost a mantra coming from her lips.

“We’re going to discuss that further… later .” I couldn’t just leave it alone, but it wasn’t the right time or place to press for answers. “For now…” I reached out to her.

Nuzzling against her neck, I pushed her hair out of my way with my nose and kissed her collarbone, ignoring the puzzled look on her face. I took the hem of the light undergarment she had slipped on to come upstairs and slowly lifted it up her body, letting my hands graze along the soft curves beneath it.

Logically, I understood that she was entertaining me. She wasn’t sore. Her muscles didn’t ache like a normal person's. I could feel it in her touch as she carded her fingers through my hair, before lifting her arms above her, allowing me to remove the garment fully.

“I’m alright, Clay,” she whispered as I straightened and looked down at her.

“Pretend you aren’t and endure my fussing?” I asked her.

The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Carry on,” she granted.

“You are–” I stopped myself short of listing every compliment that flooded my mind at the sight of her naked.

Her arms crossed over her full breasts, giving herself a semblance of modesty. Perfect curves that rounded at her stomach and hips made me dizzy and flushed. Freckles marked her collarbone like constellations, mapping out over every inch of her. I wanted to spend hours kissing each one until I knew every story she had to tell.

“Clayton.” The sound of her whining my name in protest to my adoration made my knees weak and brought a boyish smile to my lips.

“Wait,” I said, reaching out to brush a knuckle against her forearm in reassurance. “I’m committing this to memory.”

Florence huffed gently and shifted on her feet. Her thighs were rich and filled my hands as I granted her mercy from my gaze. I scooped her up from the floor against me, and she instantly wrapped her legs around my waist, pressing her face against my neck, hiding the pink color that had flooded her complexion.

“You make me nervous.” She laughed against my skin and the muscles in my forearms tensed around her back.

“I was only admiring.” I carefully lowered her into the water as it continued to fill. The water was warm, and her body relaxed when submerged.

I gently ran a cloth over her skin, touching every inch with a delicate hand as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the tub.

“I’m sorry for my apprehension,” she said after the comfortable silence stretched too tightly between us. I cleaned her shoulders' swooping arches and kissed her skin. “Matthew used to sleep in a different room,” she started, stopping with a tiny huff.

I felt every muscle in my body constrict as a tear fell from her closed eyes.

“He would barge in after nights spent drinking with his colleagues or at the gentlemen's club in town.” A heartbreaking laugh rumbled from her throat. “It was a means to an end; it was rough and vio… he wanted a son. He was obsessed with producing an heir. He didn’t care about me or…” I watched as she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “...my pleasure,” she finished. “Most of the time, I don’t think he knew the difference between me and…” She stopped briefly, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because she was deciding whether to omit something as she so frequently did, or to stop her confession altogether. So I sat still, barely breathing in the fear that she would close up and lock her innermost thoughts away again. “...Aisling. Matthew would force himself on her too.” She hissed his name with fierce loathing, unlike I had heard from her before, and I knew it was because of her protectiveness for her friend. “Sometimes, he would scold me by her name if I spoke out, and I could only pray he would finish quickly and leave, or fall asleep… The worst nights were when he stayed.”

When she paused this time, the silence was violent. The walls of the Manor seemed to shudder and contract towards her, as if cocooning around her protectively. I blinked hard and everything was as it had been, but I could have sworn. The Manor often seemed to have odd, inexplicable moments around Florence's moods.

I moved and rested my hand on her thigh. Fingers laid gently on the softness below the water.

“ Sex ,” she said, cringing at the word. “It was never a partnership, never intimate . I had never experienced anything different until I was freed from him, but then I was alone. ”

“I’m so sorry, Florence.” I finally spoke, letting the cloth drift to the bottom of the tub.

She shook her head and opened her eyes. “What we did tonight? What you are doing now-” She reached out with a wet hand, the water dripping between us as she pressed her palm against my face. “I’ve never experienced that. It was overwhelming and fulfilling in the most incredible way. You were kind, and you cannot know what that means to me, Clay.”

Fuck the research , I thought as the knowledge of her abuse lodged itself in my throat. How anyone could look at her and see her for anything but the angel she was baffled me. As she brushed her damp fingers through my hair, I realized there was no longer a single cell in my being that believed Florence was a monster.