She was still glowing inwardly, floating from the heavens on a cloud of ecstasy when Cornell pulled her back down to him. He positioned her so that she straddled him once again, a leg on either side of his torso. She didn’t know when he’d unbuttoned his trousers, but she felt the hardness of his manhood as it nudged her opening.
“You’re glorious,” he murmured, and then he thrust upward.
Pleasant bit her lip as a brief burning pain replaced the enjoyment she’d felt moments ago, but when Cornell drew her forward and kissed her, the unpleasantness started to recede. When he pulled down a section of her undergarments and bent down to draw her nipple into his mouth she forgot the discomfort completely.
Once he grasped her hips and began to move at a steady, even pace, that same intensity began to build again.
“Cornell…” she gasped, knowing she was close to the edge of oblivion.
He gently bit the curve where her neck met her left shoulder and murmured, “Let go, my love.”
And she did.
If there had ever been any doubt in his mind that Pleasant was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, after tonight, he had never been more certain of anything else. But honestly, he’d known all along she was the one.
Just as Xavier claimed he had known the moment he’d set eyes on Althea, the same had been true for Cornell. He’d just been too stubborn at the time to see it.
Either way, he’d never imagined that a simple sign advertising for an apprentice would have led to this. From the moment Pleasant entered his shop, she’d changed his entire mindset. If it hadn’t been for her gentle nudging, he might have never attempted to have a relationship with Xavier, or to get to know his brother’s wonderful family.
Holding Pleasant in his arms, he wanted nothing more than to confess his heart, but when it came to a proposal, she deserved a romantic gesture, not an abrupt confession when they were half-dressed.
She looked absolutely breathtaking, her face flushed with her long red hair falling down her back. For so long he’d imagined just this moment, and he couldn’t wait until the day he could finally call her his wife. He gently kissed her lips and lifted her so that she was sitting beside him.
He stood and fastened his trousers, and then grabbed his shirt and drew it over his head. While he was donning the rest of his clothes, Pleasant said, “You’re not staying?”
He paused and bent down to her level, where she was still sitting on the floor. He touched a finger to her full lips. “Sunday is Christmas Eve. I still have a few orders to fulfill before then. If I stay, I fear you’d be too much of a distraction.”
That earned him a small smile. “I suppose you’re right. I have the rest of the dress orders to complete.” But then she sighed. “I have no idea what might happen to us after the holidays.”
He kissed her forehead and stood. “Don’t you know that sometimes…Christmas miracles can occur?”
“In my experience,” she returned sadly. “Those only exist in fairy tales or novels.”
He lifted a brow as he shrugged on his greatcoat. “Then perhaps it’s time you start believing in them.”
With one last wink, he left.
For the next two days, Pleasant sewed until her fingers ached, but at least all of the orders that her mother had commissioned for Madame Caron were finished. She might not be as talented a seamstress as Aine had been, but as she held up an elegant, red satin gown, she was proud of her handiwork. Surely the modiste could find no fault in them.
Honestly, she was surprised she could concentrate on anything, for her mind kept drifting to Cornell and the blissful night they had shared together. She would find that her needle would be in the middle of making a stitch, while her focus was staring off at some point in space. It was almost strange to think of “Mr. Reed” as her lover, the transition from her employer to something much more taking her quite unaware. She still wasn’t sure how to process it all. It was almost as if she’d dreamt that night, if it hadn’t been for the slight soreness between her legs the next morning.
But then, Niall had suffered far worse the following day, unable to even keep water down. Pleasant had sat beside him and comforted him through the worst, until he had finally turned to her with a miserable expression. “I’m sorry, Pea.”
Since then, his attitude had become much more contrite, and he’d finally gone back to sweeping chimneys with Connor.
Without anyone to watch Fiona, Pleasant took her to the dressmaker’s shop. As they walked inside, Madame Caron offered them both a sincere smile. “I was terribly sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”
“Thank you,” Pleasant returned as she handed over the gowns. “I finished the dresses. I hope these are acceptable.”
The Madame held up the four gowns with a critical eye, inspecting each one carefully. Finally, she nodded. “Very good work, Miss Hill.” She reached into her reticule and handed Pleasant a few coins. “This was the price Mrs. Hill and I had agreed upon.”
Pleasant glanced at the handful of coins, and then shoved them into her pocket. She knew it would last only a short time before they were in dire straits once more. And now, without the income of the apprenticeship, and having dismissed all of her laundry clients, she wasn’t certain how she might make ends meet. Swallowing her pride, she asked, “Do you have any more work that I could do?”
Madame’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I’m afraid after the holidays, the demand for dresses is rather slim. Of course, once the Season begins, the shop will be flooded with new orders. I’m sure I could use your help then.”
Pleasant’s spirits sank. The London Season wouldn’t begin until the spring, several months away. She couldn’t wait that long to try to find some steady income.
She murmured her thanks and took Fiona’s hand, turning to go, but then Madame brightened and said, “If you see Mr. Reed, let him know that his order will be complete this evening.”
Pleasant glanced back with a frown. “I’m afraid that I had to quit my position at the shop.”
The lady waved a hand, suddenly distressed. “Oh, of course! Then don’t concern yourself. I shall send a messenger over shortly.”
Pleasant’s mind was whirling as she exited the shop. What could Cornell be ordering from the modiste? She instantly had an image of another woman on his arm; perhaps even one of Madame LeFleur’s girls, but then dismissed it just as quickly.
Cornell cared for her, didn’t he? She surely hadn’t imagined it when he’d called her “my love” and caressed her so tenderly?
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk while pedestrians jostled her and grumbled as they passed. It was almost like the day she had seen the sign in the cordwainer’s window and thought it was the answer to her prayers. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t just made a terrible error in judgment.
Cornell might be illegitimate, but he was still the son of an earl. The same, blue blood that ran through Lord Haverton’s veins was in his. He might not be able to marry a viscount’s sister someday, but surely he could court someone who was more worthy than a cobbler’s daughter, a woman who had already given him her virtue with no thought to the future.
She inhaled sharply as she pressed a hand to her stomach. What if she was already carrying his child?
There was a gentle tug on her hand. “Pea? Are you sick?”
