March 26th, 1891 — Emrys' Home, Bristol

There were a lot of hours between dawn and eight o'clock in the evening, as it turned out, and for most of the day Emrys was languishing, unsure he could possibly make it through. If this had been any other day he might have gone back to sleep after returning from the duel, but after her midnight missive there was no chance at all that he could sleep the morning away. Being awake this early was very out of character for him, though, and he didn't know what to do with the time. He didn't have business affairs to tend to; he'd already cleared his schedule in case he needed to deal with Elmer Macmillan's corpse. He didn't have any social engagements or places he could visit, for similar reasons. Usually when he found himself with long stretches of time and nothing to do, he would indulge in some substance abuse, but that was obviously out of the question. He wanted to be sober when she arrived.

He undressed, bathed, dressed again (a different outfit than the one he'd worn this morning, which had been chosen for its ability to hide bloodstains if necessary), tried to read, given up. He'd gone for a walk around the garden, then gone for a ride on horseback, which had left him sweating and in need of another bath and another outfit. Selecting his third outfit of the day had taken a good deal of time, but he'd still spent more moments today than he would have admitted to pacing and watching the clock. Finally, the hour arrived. He was waiting in the parlor, standing and looking out the window, when the fireplace lit up with green flames.

"Well," he said as he turned to the floo with a smile. "My illustrious guest has arrived. Come in, then. Let's see what you decided," he said, a reference to her whispered letter from the night before. His words may have beckoned her in so that he could see her outfit, but his eyes were already drinking in the sight of her, with a hungry look he couldn't have hid if he'd tried.

@"Angelica Vorona" Hermia Bonaccord

  

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Lou made this! <3

Not-so-vague references to sexy times.

As a general rule, the length of hours did not change based on her evening plans. The rule did not apply today, apparently. Since she sent her provocative owl and fallen asleep to the thought of his hands replacing hers as they snuck beneath her nightdress, Angelica was nearly bleeding unshed energy and magic. It was his name on her lips as she sought relief in her scalding bath, his smirk and self-satisfied tone she imagined urging her to find her pleasure. Angel had never truly believed herself a wanton, but Emrys Selwyn was calling her own assessments into question. It bothered her until she caught sight of one of his letters.

The day left her pacing before her wardrobe, her bed becoming a mess of discarded gowns. Had her maid not been with her since she left Russia, the comment about 'being as anxious as a lady at her debut' would have earned more than a deep flush and muttered curse. The only thing Angel was not questioning were the earrings. She'd barely taken them off since they arrived. The rest of her wardrobe was proving to be a most exhausting endeavor. Her final decision - only because time was finally growing short - was enough to have her slightly stunned as a result. Black tulle, gold thread, and charmed silk flowed over her, the sleeves and sheath of the dress charmed black at the floor and flowing to a sheer cream that matched the skin beneath. While the silhouette was less provocative than their previous encounter, the sheer fabric and nearly nonexistent back of the gown had her questioning just how brave she was willing to be. Before she could talk herself out of the gown, she slipped a cloak over her shoulders and headed for the fireplace, the few curls she left free no longer teasing her skin.

By the time she stepped into the fire, the heat beneath her skin was equal to the flames parting to welcome her. The sight awaiting her was well worth the wait. "I hope my decision meets with your approval." Angel smiled, looking far too delighted before she presented her back to him, and peeked over her shoulder. "Would you be so kind as to help with my cloak, Mr. Selwyn?" The innocent mask she adopted should be all the warning he needed to know this request had little to do with chivalry.

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Emrys Selwyn

Dress: Full |   Detail |   Back(about 4" higher)
Earrings: <3

  

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MJ made this miracle!

His eyebrow raised slightly at her question. She was more than capable of removing her own cloak, he imagined, so there must have been something else at work here. Still, he crossed the room without complaint and lifted the fabric from her shoulders. He figured it out as soon as he caught a glimpse of the bare skin at the back of her dress. He had to bite his lower lip hard to keep from making a noise at the unexpected sight. His knees felt wobbly and he was glad she was facing the other direction, so that he had a second to school his expression into something less revealing than what passed over his features immediately. Oh, what a wicked woman! She'd done this on purpose, of course. Choosing the dress, wearing this heavy cloak, and then getting him into this position to remove it and reveal skin all down her back, just inches away from his hands.

He wanted to touch her, but it was far too soon for that. Even if he'd invited her over with the sole purpose of bedding her and nothing beyond, it would have been too early to disperse the tension so soon. Since he wanted more (or at least, he thought he did — he was strongly considering it) it stood to reason that he should have waited even longer, but damn. She was going to make it difficult.

"Excellent choice, with the cloak," he said, in a neutral tone that masked (he hoped) the thoughts running through his head. "You might have been cold otherwise. Can I get you a drink, Professor?"

  

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Lou made this! <3

Angelica wanted to see his face when he realized her sartorial secret, but looking away proved to be her saving grace. They had never been this close before; had never touched. Feeling the weight of his hands through the fabric of her cloak and the knowledge that he hovered just inches behind, inspecting her as no living man has, left her holding her breath. Were she to step or even lean back, Angel was certain she would finally feel him against her, but she would not be the one to concede their game so soon. The feel of his words teasing the hairs framing her neck was almost enough to change her mind.

Collecting herself, she turned to him, "I did not want to catch a chill on that arduous journey from floo to floo. Though, I was hoping you would keep us both warm, Mr. Selwyn." She let that be for a split second before continuing, "The fire will certainly be up to the task.”

Taking in her surroundings quickly, she needed somewhere to look that was less dangerous than his face, Angel felt a jolt up her spine as it settled in that they were truly alone in his home, not a single gossip in sight. "A drink would be lovely, thank you." And if her racing heart was an indication, that drink might be necessary.

Emrys Selwyn

  

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MJ made this miracle!

Her words had an affect on him, but it was less the words themselves and more the look in her eye when she said it, and the way she held his gaze. It was almost like it was a challenge. She was being intentionally provocative. If she kept on this way, he was going to have great difficulty hiding the physical affect she was having on him (namely in a very particular area at the front of his trousers), and he couldn't abide that. If she noticed an obvious erection, Emrys thought she might be more likely to laugh at him then help him to relieve it... or did he only think she might be so cruel because he would have, in the same situation? It was a silly game they were playing, trying to pull the signs of each other's desire out into the open without revealing their own, but it was a delicious game and it wasn't one he intended to lose, no matter what tricks she pulled.

She looked away, and he took a breath again. He hadn't realized it had caught in his throat until now; she'd enchanted him with her gaze and it wasn't until she broke it that he even realized he'd been ensnared. What a dangerous house guest she was proving to be. As she turned to survey the room, he had a full view of her bare back, and an excellent study of her figure. He could picture what the naked skin on the junction between her waist and her hips might look like in this same moment, flexing with her movement.

He pulled his attention away and went to hang her coat, brushing one hand over the front of his pants to resituate himself.

"The fire, or the firewhiskey," he offered with a smug smile as he went to the sideboard where his collection of alcohol was displayed. Her decanter was placed prominently in the center. "You did say it was warming, didn't you? Or perhaps that was only bravado in your letter," he teased, as he poured himself a glass. "Would you prefer something more delicate, my lady?"

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   Angelica Selwyn

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Lou made this! <3

Breaking her eyes away reminded her of severing magnets at the poles, instinct and nature wanted her eyes on Emrys Selwyn, but a force of greater strength (sense and sanity) yanked her away. Angelica would wager that magnets never felt longing. There was something about him that ignited her inner competitor and provoked her need for victory. It was something more than his natural confidence and apparent ease in testing her boundaries in public. The lazy, impish smirk he displayed was a surprise attack when his default appearance, from what she could tell, was stoic gentleman. He caused a flurry of sensation she had not embraced in nearly a decade. His eyes flashed a warning that any wise woman would heed, but curiosity and lust for knowledge pulled her in willingly. She wanted to know her opponent and his secrets, but it was impossible to focus.

He stepped away and her hand jumped to her stomach, impulsively pressing against the breathy fluttering in her abdomen. It was ridiculous that he was affecting her at all. Angelica had been around attractive men, she'd turned down attractive men, and here she was, jumping as if she had not already been a married woman. Her automatic reactions were becoming most unwelcome.

His offer caused a strange collision of 'embarrassed flush' and 'peevish scowl' before she could school her features. Getting him a gift was an impulsive move and she knew the risk as soon as she'd made the purchase, but she had no real indication of his views of the matter. Was his teasing just that or had she crossed a line when she had been so bold with him? He struck the winning blow in their exchange and it left her unsteady. She also thought firewiskey a ridiculous way men attempted to prove some inherent masculinity.

"Warming, helpful if you are working up to imitating a dragon," Angel shrugged as if to say 'take your pick.' "I suppose it will require you to test my words, Mr. Selwyn. See if it warms or proves too much for your tastes." Angel joined him near his sideboard if she briefly jutted her chin and shifted her weight, it was only a lifetime of attempting to look intimidating next to a twin brother that towered over her. "You will find that I rise when challenged, Mr. Selwyn. But perhaps, I do not know my opponent's strength. What is more dangerous to a mysterious pirate: a bold offensive or a delicate surrender? Such a riddle." Her hand floated to her heart, in a gesture of obvious melodrama. "How will I solve it?"

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MJ made this miracle!

Emrys hadn't tried the firewhiskey before tonight, but he doubted it would be too much for him. There were certain skills one picked up as a gentleman of leisure (which was really what he was, despite having titles of owner or investor) the same way there were skills people picked up because they were in a particular career. Drinking alcohol was one of them, and he doubted anything she'd picked up on a whim would prove a match for him.

"I doubt very much it will prove too much for my tastes," he said suggestively, though as he made the comment he was looking not at the firewhiskey in his hand but rather at her. He hadn't had a chance to really see the front of her dress yet, between the cloak she'd worn in and how focused he'd been on her bare back, but now he took it all in. His mouth flicked towards a smile at her melodramatic pose, but he also noticed that the stance put her breasts at great advantage.

"As for your dilemma," he said, tearing his eyes away from her with some difficulty to pour himself a glass. "I think it depends on your strategy for getting the best of your pirate invader. A surrender followed by an ambush might give you the upper hand indeed," he said, replacing the top of the decanter on the firewhiskey and turning his attention instead towards a bottle of sherry, which he poured her a glass of without asking. "Pirates are prepared for bold offensives."

  

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Lou made this! <3

Angelica met his gaze with her own, breathing in his suggestion. His assessment of his competence, as it was, was met with a warm little chuckle and a small sound of agreement. “We will see, sir. We will certainly see.” What was talk and what he could back up with action, Angel didn’t know, but she was painfully eager to find out.

“A feint then,” Angel provided as he reached for a bottle of sherry, she assumed. Raising an eyebrow at his assumption (fine, she found the casual act of deciding for her attractive, there were few things more alluring than a wizard who mastered his environment) Angelica closed the space between them to take the glass. “Something to keep my pirate guessing.” Angelica allowed her fingers to brush his as he handed her the glass, the simple contact sparking through her like lightning. “There is some virtue in the long game, I suppose. But the bold solution is so much more delightful.”

Angel took a slow sip of the sherry, allowing her eyes to close for a moment as she savored the sweet burn on her tongue. “You have delightful taste, sir. I hope the same can be said of mine.” She nodded to the firewhiskey in his hand, truly interested in whether or not she had read his tastes correctly.

Looking around the rather luxurious room where he’d received her, Angel noticed an obvious lack of a certain object. “I do not see any cards at the ready. Was there another matter you wished to discuss, Mr. Selwyn or are you hesitant to play with me?” The only true surprise would have been appearing for an actual card game. What were the chances he would now want to be literal?

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   Emrys Selwyn

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MJ made this miracle!

“There is some virtue in the long game, I suppose. But the bold solution is so much more delightful.” If words could manifest themselves physically he was sure these would have done so, because they were doing as good a job of teasing him as her hands might have in any other scenario. He could feel them run trails down his arms, sending little sparks through him. Nevermind the brush of her hand against his, when her words were wrapping around him and squeezing, trying to coax the breath out of his lungs so that they could play across his lips. The bold solution — he could almost imagine what she would taste like. As she closed her eyes and took a drink he found himself leaning towards her just slightly, anticipating the contact he was craving.

He caught himself. His mouth was dry and she was intoxicating, but he'd caught himself and he hadn't given up their game just yet. He turned his attention to the whiskey and took a sip, just enough to taste it on his tongue. His mouth flicked towards a smile at her question about the taste. "Impeccable," he said, though truthfully he hadn't even noticed the taste of the whiskey; he was going to be drunk on her before the night was through.

She'd turned her attention to the room, which meant he had another glimpse of her bare back again. His body stirred impatiently. Emrys let his eyes linger there for a moment, savoring the tension, before he responded to her question. "I thought I made it quite clear in our letters that I was anything but hesitant to play with you," he said, loading the phrase considerably. He raised his glass to his lips again and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he met hers. "You need only name the game."

He made no move to retrieve cards, nor any indication of where they were stored.

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   Angelica Selwyn

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Lou made this! <3

There was a solid chance she would catch fire before the evening ended. This close to him, she found it increasingly difficult not to let her eyes drift. Now with the momentary gloss of whiskey on his lips, she found it nearly impossible to keep her gaze from settling there. The urge to kiss away the liquor endangering her senses and what restraint she had remaining.

It was that voice of his that was most like to ruin her, though. That or that heated stare. Her eyes lingered while he considered her in silence for a moment. She was half afraid to break the strange pull in the space between them.

“What made you made ‘quite clear’ is that you do not play by the rules.” There was some admiration to that statement. He was a respectable man that kept to his own business, but skirted convention to approach her and thoroughly charm her in public before engaging with her an exchange more heated than any she had shared with another. “I could name the game, but I doubt you would honor the rules. And, at the moment, I believe we’ve settled into a rather odd combination of chicken and chess.” With a rather superior little smirk, Angelica gave him just the tiniest salute of her glass before bringing it to her lips.

  

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MJ made this miracle!

He smirked at her assessment. He glanced at the sideboard and placed one hand on it, drumming his fingertips lightly on the surface.

"You say that as though you do play by the rules," he pointed out, choosing his words deliberately. She had done nothing of the sort, in their exchange. Sending him gifts, when it was too early for that to be acceptable of even the gentleman. The whispered howler last night describing her wardrobe. All of her coy little references. If they were going to talk about who was playing by the rules, they were both equally guilty. He may have started it — the pirate laying siege to her city, to revisit their metaphor — but she'd given her fair share of tricks and turns along the way. She could hardly pretend to be a blushing innocent now, not when she was wearing that, not when she had come to his house alone in the evening, and not with that look in her eyes.

Emrys took a step towards her, dragging his fingertips over the surface of the wood on the sideboard, the way he wanted to drag them over her. "Do you? Are you going to tell me that I've shocked and offended you, Professor?"

  

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Lou made this! <3

His movement – a habit perhaps? – to strum along wood caused a brief and highly unfortunate mental image to assault her mind’s eye. For a man that didn’t play instruments, metaphorically or otherwise, he had the hands of a pianist and she pictured them playing down her spine for a moment. Horrid choice as she felt her cheeks heat as if she’d run into the wind.

“I play by my rules.” She retorted, the lame quip doing little to hold her ground. She was well aware how forward she had been, could even be ashamed, but he had caught her so off guard with his own gift. There was no way he believed it appropriate to send her jewelry, not so soon. The fact she was wearing them now as if he had staked some claim was beside the point completely.

It was very hard to play at this game when his step forward left her just below his chin, forcing her to tip her head to meet his eyes if she intended to hold her ground. “You mistake my meaning.” She offered casually before taking one smaller sip of the sherry before placing it on the sideboard rather closer to his questing hand than necessary.  “I never said ‘offended.’” Shocked was accurate right along with delighted or, in his words, expectant. “Unless you would like to hear me lie in the name of delicate surrender and whatnot.” She neither beaten nor delicate at the moment; she felt like fire given flesh with him so close. "No, Mister Selwyn, intrigued is the word you need."

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MJ made this miracle!

Her rules. Mmhm — the same rules that allowed for inappropriate, expensive gifts, lines of poetry, and evocative descriptions of her wardrobe. The same rules that allowed for a dress like that while she was alone in the home of a gentleman she'd only met a month ago, and only once. Emrys thought he ought to have no trouble at all playing by those rules. And now she'd set her glass down right next to his hand, and he could feel her eyes on him — yes, he could play this game.

"And what would it take to move beyond intrigued?" he asked, taking half a step towards her. He was far too close to her now, but his eyes were not on her face or her body but rather on her hand on the sideboard. Given this, it was conceivable that he might not have noticed how much he'd intruded on her personal space. Conceivable, but they would both know better.

Moving deliberately yet fluidly, he closed the distance between their hands and trailed one fingertip along the exposed skin of her wrist. "A matching bracelet, perhaps?" he suggested softly. Turning his attention towards her face, he let his hand leave hers and reached up to trail his fingertips along the air just above her neck. Not touching her, not quite, but he could feel her beneath his fingertips all the same, the tension sparking between them like electric arcs. He was close enough that he could have kissed her without moving, but he didn't — not yet. "Or a necklace?"

  

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Lou made this! <3

‘Walk away now’ was the blaring refrain in her head, but it still wasn’t loud enough to drown out the far more enjoyable suggestions dancing through her blood. Even with her impulses leading the way, Angel was quick to turn her head away to avoid tucking into the crook of his neck or tilting up into a poorly positioned kiss. She had no intention of inelegant accidents.

She started when his finger traced along her wrist, the contact setting off a chill along her arm. She could savor for only a moment before his words forced her eyes up to his face, his implication stinging more than it warmed. But as his attention shifted and his fingers hovered above her skin, Angel couldn’t force herself to take a step back. “I am not a woman you buy, sir, whatever you think of my actions.” Angel’s voice was still warm, soft for him as she corrected. She had no desire to move away from the heat of him, but she could not let the implication stand. “That sort of bribery is reserved for regaining the favor of a wife. It is the fastest way to avoid an argument.” Angelica added, offering him a small smile. “I thought all gentlemen were taught that early in life.”

She could feel the strange tingle of proximity as his hand hovered so near her throat, but the urge to offer him more of the delicate stretch of her neck. It was irrational and horribly dangerous, she knew that, but she also knew what fear felt like. This was the opposite of fear. “You are an intelligent man, Mr. Selwyn. I am certain you can think of something.” She let her eyes rest on his lips, but she was not about to ask him – not yet.

  

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MJ made this miracle!

He frowned faintly at her response about buying. Such a crass way of phrasing it — but wasn't she the sort of woman that could be bought? She was wearing the earrings he'd sent her. Everyone could be bought, it was just that for some the price had less to do with money and more to do with emotion. Life was full of trades, though, and Emrys wasn't the sort to get caught up on what material was involved in the barter. So long as he recognized the worth of what he was buying, why should it matter?

Her next comment stuck in his mind too, less for what she had said necessarily and more because she had introduced the word wife to their conversation. Just a thing to say, or was she trying to hint at something? Taken in combination with her earlier remark about not being bought, she might be trying to tell him this evening wasn't headed in the direction he'd thought it might have been... but she hadn't taken a step back, nor had she moved away from his almost-touch.

Emrys dropped his hand and turned back to the sideboard, picking up his glass. He hadn't taken a step away from her yet, but he'd shifted his weight enough that he was a little less in her personal space than he had been before. "Perhaps you forget, but I've never been married," he remarked, glancing back at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'd like to think I've mastered this art of — what did you call it? Bribing my way out of arguments," he remarked. "But I may still have some things to learn in... other areas."

  

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Lou made this! <3

She was aware of her catastrophic error as soon as her words left her. If only she could pretend this was the first time her mouth had her in trouble. The same cursed mouth was the only way she could think to get out of this. “I apologize, I did not mean to offend you. Truly, I made an assumption that was most uncouth, and I insulted you.” Angel was the one to move this time, countering toward his body this time.

Watching him carefully, she extended her hand toward the arm now holding his glass. She had bristled at the assumption that she was some common, corrupted woman, but she was no ignorant girl. Angel understood the power of those little touches she craved herself. Resting her hand gently on his forearm, hoping she had not truly ruined his apparent ardor, Angel watched him for her direction, hoping to guide him back. “What can I do to prove myself, Mr. Selwyn?” Unable to help herself, Angel allowed her voice to drop, her eyes again going to his lips.

She wasn’t certain where the night would end, but if she had him convinced her interest was in any way diminished, he hadn’t been paying attention.

  

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MJ made this miracle!