The Miss Education of Dr. Exeter

Chapter Twenty-six

MIA SAT AT HER VANITY and peered at the young woman reflected in the mirror. Spending a few busy years in Boston might not be such a bad thing—in fact, it might be just the distance they both needed. She entertained a brief fantasy, and pictured a distraught Exeter, looking darkly handsome, as usual, and missing her terribly. More than he could have ever imagined.

Mia raised her chin, blinking rapidly. She would not cry—not again.

She tried to think of something cheerful—her newfound independence. The chance that she might have a new life in America. The picture in her mind quickly turned to a fledgling medical student alone in a strange country. Why, she didn’t know a single solitary soul in Boston. A chill went through her, and then the longing for him returned. She had hungered for him before they were intimate, but not with this kind of intensity. At times it seemed as though she had yearned for him since . . .

Forever.

She had weighed her choices over and over these past weeks. If she stayed here in London, her life would be nothing short of a living torture. To live with a man she loved, who did not wish to be her husband or lover—but her guardian.

Mia shivered.

“Would you like a warmer dressing gown, Miss—the quilted one perhaps?” The upstairs maid drew her from unhappy thoughts.

“I’m fine. Good night, Violet.” The little maid padded out of the room. Absently, Mia heard the soft click as the door shut. She exhaled a sigh—more of a soft moan, wrenched from deep within her body. Dear God, how she would miss him.

Certainly, the young woman who returned her gaze in the mirror appeared older and wiser, or was that because she wanted to believe it so? Mia reached up to unpin her hair. “I would like to help you with that—if you would allow me.”

She had thought the dark silhouette a mere shadow in the window. In the blink of an eye, he moved from her bedchamber to her dressing room. Mia stared at his reflection. “Good evening, Prospero.”

“Mia.” Their gaze met in the mirror. After every pin had been removed from her looped chignon, a mane of hair fell down her back, Gentle hands reached out and swept loose waves off her neck. Reverently, he bent and kissed her shoulder. “If I believed for a moment you could be mine, I would not hesitate to love you.”

Her heart palpitated rapidly, not in the way it did for Exeter, but there was no denying the attraction. Something dark inside her—the cat in her, presumably—sparked to him. “How could you know?”

“I know only what I sense from your heart—” Prospero’s breath drifted over her ear. “And your body. I have wanted you for some time now, Mia—to plunge deep inside you—feel those long legs wrapped around my waist.”

Mia spun around and slapped his face. “Get out. Exeter will be here any minute.”

The strangely handsome wizard stared—almost amused. Piercing silver black eyes squinted slightly as he evaluated her words. “He has not been in your bedchamber in weeks, why would he come tonight?”

She could feel him probe around in her thoughts, but he could only go so deep. To know her innermost feelings, he would have to allow her into his mind, something he would never do.

Mia breathed a sigh of relief. She had left Exeter’s study out of sorts and needlessly aroused. She had gone directly to her room, undressed, and waited for him to advise her on the finer points of pleasuring herself—not that she couldn’t muddle her way through on her own—but if this was the only way to get him into her bedchamber it would have to do.

Whether he wished to admit it to himself or not, Exeter had become aroused in his study and was almost embarrassed by it. Frankly, that infuriated her more than anything. And now—here was Prospero, ready to make love to her. The wizard brushed his lips over the edge of her ear and nibbled.

Mia moistened her lips. She entertained a dangerous thought. According to her friend Phoebe, there were times when men needed to be jostled out of a stupor of indifference and taught a lesson.

Prospero met her gaze in the mirror. “As I said earlier, I would like to help you with that—if you would allow it.” Mia wondered if she grasped his meaning—he understood her heartache and was willing help her.

“And what do you ask in return for such a favor?”

“You must convince Exeter to let me go free.”

“But”—she looked him up and down—“you are here; you are free.”

Prospero almost smiled. “A very persistent illusion.”

She searched his face. So open and honest tonight. As though he had laid himself bare. “Why do they fear you so? What did you do to them that makes them so fearful of you?”

“It is not what I did to them. It is what they did to my people. They fear my retaliation.”

“So you didn’t create those Outremer dregs—Reapers, Grubbers . . . and the Skeezicks?”

“I had to survive. Oakley and his gang of corporate thugs sabotaged all my efforts to repair the unraveling. He even convinced Victor to blow up the aether plants. And now they have in their possession the temperamental Moonstone.” He laced his gravely soft voice with an extra bit of irony. “It’s almost amusing.”

“Exeter mentioned problems.” Her head whirled. She had not been privy to much information about these alternate-world moguls, apart from their great struggle for power.

Prospero suddenly swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedchamber. “He is coming.”

He sat her on the bed and opened her dressing gown. She suffered an unexpected wave of modesty when he took a moment to admire her. “You’ve already seen me naked.”

“Yes, I have.” Prospero kissed her almost tenderly. “Forgive me, but I have to make this look good.” He slapped her across the face and she cried out.

“Whatever happens, don’t let the cat out,” he whispered. “Trust me, please.” He wrapped his fingers around her neck.

“Take your hands off her.”

Mia glimpsed Exeter’s tall silhouette enter the room. When she began to choke, Prospero lifted her up and flung himself behind her. “I go free and the girl goes free.”

Mia nodded, the fear in her eyes just as real as it looked. As this was no doubt part of this scheming wizard’s plan, she needed to be convincing. “Please, Exeter—he has promised to let me go.”

“Oh, he will let you go, all right.” Exeter fired a ball of violet-blue force much more powerful than he had used against Prospero in Paris, but then his energy had been drastically depleted by the explosion and cave-in. This time Exeter’s blast hit Prospero squarely in the chest and sent him flying across the room.

Mia tugged her wrap back on and hid behind the open door of the armoire. What seemed endless was probably over in less than half an hour. The two men traded salvos of potent energy back and forth until they were both exhausted. Once the aether dust settled, a glance about the room revealed the devastation. Furniture broken, windows shattered, shards of glass strewn about the floor from the bank of French doors. Tentatively, she ventured out from behind the safety of the wardrobe.

The Outremer wizard was the first to speak. “Cover your feet, Mia.”

Exeter frowned. “You do not have the privilege of saying protective things to her—not after you hit her.”

Prospero smiled this time. “I had to get you mad—fighting mad, deplete your energy so that you would have nothing left to force me back. You may have fooled everyone around you for years, Doctor Exeter—but you are a wizard. As powerful as I have ever seen and twice as intelligent. That is why I’m hoping you’ll hear me out.”

“But—” Exeter looked as though he might lunge at the man. “You were about to rape her.”

Mia slipped on satin slippers. “Pish-posh, I’m perfectly fine.”

She looked them over carefully. Both men had suffered bruises and scrapes but otherwise appeared relatively unharmed. She had to do something before one of them hurt the other, badly. “Hear him out, Exeter.” She opened her bedroom door, and was surprised to see it didn’t fall off its hinges. Mia tightened her wrapper. “Come along, gentlemen, I would like a cup of sweet spicy tea—and you both could use a relaxer.”

The Outremer wizard raised both hands in surrender.

Exeter’s glared softened. “No more games,” he warned.

They picked up his medical kit on the way to the kitchen. Prospero sat quietly while Exeter examined him. “You need not worry about me. This”—Prospero pinched the torn flesh on his forearm—“is my double—a virtual copy.”

“Do you self-repair? Or will you need someone over there to attend to your wounds?”

“Someone is already taking care of me. They scrutinize my every move; for the past hour they’ve been observing the original equipment get flung around the cell I’m locked in. They’ve already sent a team over to find out what I’m up to. We’ll only have a few minutes to talk.” Exeter removed his shirt and Mia dabbed tincture and bandaged cuts without too many hisses and yelps.

Prospero talked fast, starting with the story of an ancient struggle between two powerful families—vying tribes of a sort—and then a devastating loss of aether: enough to begin the unraveling of their world. Someone had to be blamed—and since Prospero was in possession of the remaining aether, he was forced to defend it.

“The Moonstone has restored equilibrium because it is the right thing to do, but the stone will not bend to either side’s will. Oakley is trying to find a way to coerce me, bring us into some kind of false accord—but he fools no one, particularly the stone. Ask Phaeton. If you don’t trust me, I believe you will trust his instincts.”

Exeter’s jaw muscle twitched as it always did when he was vexed or undecided on a matter. “You are correct about one thing. I don’t trust you.” He tossed back his whiskey. “But I will look into your story.”

Mr. Tandi descended into the pantry. “There are three gentlemen in the foyer, looking for a—” He turned to Prospero and bowed. “This man.”

The wizard pushed off his stool. “Please stay. Have your tea and drink your whiskey.” He nodded to the black-skinned manservant. “With your escort, Mr. Tandi.”

The Outremer wizard started up the stairs and turned back. “ ‘As I foretold you, were all spirits, melted into air, into thin air—yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve. And like this insubstantial pageant fade’ ”—Prospero’s gaze traveled from Exeter to Mia. “ ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on . . .’ ”

Exeter poured himself another whiskey. “A shot of this might help us both get some sleep tonight.”

“Pour me a glass, then.” Mia set down her teacup. “You must be exhausted—that was quite the battle of wizard wills, Doctor Exeter.”

“Don’t give too much credence to Prospero’s assertions—I am just a practitioner of the manipulation of powerful elements. The superstitious call them dark arts and attach names like sorcerer or wizard to those who apply them.” Exeter finished the last of his whiskey. “The quote from Shakespeare was apt—most of it is theater.”

Mia shot him a wary glance. “Those cuts and bruises are no such illusion. You’re just being modest—or evasive.” Swallowing half a dram, she hiccupped.

“Come—let’s find you a place to sleep.” Exeter reached for her hand and intertwined fingers. As they neared his bedchamber, he turned to her. “You can’t sleep in your room—you’ll catch a chill—then a cold.” He opened his bedroom door. “Sleep in here tonight.”

A good amount of heat radiated from the hearth, and his bed had been turned down. She untied her dressing gown and slipped under the covers. He caught a glimpse of long limbs as she tucked herself between the sheets. The moment her head touched the pillow there was a sensuous exhale. Exeter removed his waistcoat and shirt.

She cracked an eye open. “Where will you sleep?”

“Here, beside you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, bare-chested. “Here, Mia—beside you. Do you mind?”

She lifted the covers. “Come to bed and let me show you how much I have missed you, for I am more than ready.” She stretched like a sleepy cat and curled up in his arms.

“Wet, are we?” His voice was soft and deep.

“Sopping.” She rubbed his ruff of stubble with the palm of her hand. “How long until dawn?”

He inched the covers below her breasts and nibbled. “A few hours.”

She moaned as he tongued a nipple. “Then we must make the most of this night together.”

Exeter gently pulled the sheet past her belly, and let his hand travel farther, sliding down into her labia. He massaged gently, the kind of circling only he knew how to administer. He understood her subtle signals, what kind of rubbing she wanted, the rhythms and pressure to apply to the secret places that made her shudder and moan.

“I wish to reach my paroxysm with you inside me. Can we try?” Mia pushed the covers off and opened her legs wide—enough for him to view her pink folds of glistening flesh. Thoroughly aroused, Exeter dipped between her legs and gently licked as she squirmed with pleasure. Climbing over her, he held her arms at her sides while his tongue delved inside—in and out, laving broad strokes. He tickled her clitoris with his tongue and felt her shudder in response, as her sex grew swollen and her vagina flooded in readiness. Hovering above her for just a moment, he enjoyed the look of pure desire in her gaze. Firmly, he pushed inside the wet, warm sex of her, slippery with excitement.

“Slowly.” She whispered.

This was only her third time. “Is it painful? I can stop if you wish.” His voice was husky with desire.

“Don’t stop. I want you to love me so that I will remember it for days and days,” she ordered softly. She wrapped her legs up around his body and moaned; her breathing became harsh and rapid. With firm, deliberate strokes, he concentrated on her pleasure while building his own fervor a little at a time.

Exeter pushed his knees between her legs and without missing a single thrust, his hands reached under the small of her back and lifted her upright onto the tops of his thighs. Leaning back on his haunches, he impaled her on his penis and showed her how to rock her hips. He took a mouthful of breast and let their pleasure build to the next level.

“Good God, Mia.” He kept it slow, and with each withdrawal, he pulled out enough to rub her swollen nub with the tip of his cock. He pressed his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks and brought himself deeper inside. His thrusts became rapid and violent as her trembling grew stronger until she responded with her blissful cry and shudder of release. “Oh . . . Asa.” All she had to do was whisper his birth name, and his seed exploded into the depths of her body.

Exeter did not speak as he gasped for breath and chastised himself. He had become so highly aroused that he had not curtailed his behavior. He held her, clung to her, for he feared he had hurt her. She was not ready, yet, for such rough sex. Finally he managed an apology. “I’m so sorry. Are you well enough, Mia?”

“You must not treat me as though I am a piece of Royal Doulton china—brittle and easily broken,” she chided.

He swept a few locks of hair over her shoulders and held her face in the palms of his hands. “No, you are brave and strong, and might I say so very delicious?”

“I came to pleasure with you inside me.” Her chest rose and fell in soft slow intervals. Her nipples were relaxed, opalescent rose in color, and her skin glistened with the sheen of lumière de l’amour. He sometimes felt like he could drown himself in her body. He lifted a finger to the tip of her breast and watched it ruche in response to his circling.

There had been a kind of savage intimacy to their mating that felt as if their very souls had participated in a deep and profound intercourse. As it was, this night was to last in both their memories for a very long time, perhaps forever.