Chapter 26
Millicent dragged me back to my guest chamber. My cane? Abandoned somewhere along the way.
Once inside, she turned the key in the lock with an ominous click, the sound cutting through the drunken fog in my mind. I made a grand attempt to lurch away, only to have my feet betray me with a most treacherous stumble forward. Her arms curled around my waist as a wicked smile played on her lips.
"Careful, Florance," she purred. "You fell right into my arms this time."
Millicent. Always so composed, so regal in the eyes of others, but when alone, she reveled in tormenting me, the innocent and defenseless one in this scenario. Alright, perhaps I was not entirely innocent.
"What... what are you doing?!" I slurred, twisting awkwardly to glare at her. I am quite certain I intended for my glare to be menacing, but my uncoordinated eye likely made it appear not so.
"Oh, just ensuring you remain upright," she replied, that insufferable smirk firmly in place.
"Unhand me, you vile villain!" I barked, though my bark was less ferocious and more akin to an indignant kitten's mewl. With a twist, I attempted to wrench myself free.
The conniving wretch loosened her hold just enough to send me teetering off balance. I flailed, arms flinging before instinctively clinging to her shoulders.
Her arms encircled my waist once more. "Florance, you seem rather determined to remain in my embrace."
"Release me this instant, you insufferable duchess!" I demanded.
"And allow you to collapse onto the floor? I think not."
What followed was less of a dignified attempt at escape and more of a wrestling match. I twisted and pushed with all the drunken determination I could muster while Millicent held her ground. The struggle escalated, our chaotic movements carrying us across the room, and with one poorly aimed lunge, gravity made its inevitable declaration: we tumbled unceremoniously onto the bed.
There I was, sprawled atop her, my face mere inches from hers. She tightened her hold around my waist.
"Oh my, how terribly forward of you, Florance. I must confess, I am quite flustered by such boldness."
"Let go of me, you fiend!" I hissed. "How dare you insinuate, how dare you even think that! Pervert!"
"Pervert, you say?" she repeated with feigned disbelief, visibly struggling not to burst into laughter at my unsteady outrage. "I fear you may be mistaken, Florance. After all, you are the one clinging to me so... intimately."
I spluttered, shaking my head vehemently, though the motion only seemed to send my already precarious balance into greater disarray. "I am not hugging you!" I declared. "You are holding me, you blasted scoundrel! Admit it!"
"Am I? I could have sworn it was quite the opposite. Perhaps your memory is failing you, Florance."
I squinted, glaring, or attempting to glare at her, though the fact that two blurred versions of her were swimming before my eye made focusing a near impossibility. My gaze flickered between the two Millicents as I hissed, "Stop multiplying at once! It is highly improper!"
Millicent burst into laughter, the sound rich and unapologetic, her shoulders shaking beneath me as though this were the finest entertainment she had encountered all evening. "You are delightfully drunk."
"I have an important mission!" I insisted, my words slurring but my resolve steadfast. "You must release me! It is vital!"
"Your so-called mission? You already told me about it."
"Then let go!" I snapped, my voice climbing higher, no doubt drawing the attention of passing spirits in the afterlife.
"I cannot. I refuse to let you stumble about drunk, attempting to seduce my guests."
"That is none of your concern!" I shot back.
"Oh, but it is," she countered coolly, her crimson eyes locking onto mine with a steady, unyielding authority. "Everything within the Vaneeri estate is my concern, Florance. And you, I regret to inform you, are no exception."
Still thoroughly intoxicated but not so far gone as to forget my earlier antics, a truly reckless idea formed in my clouded mind, a spark of drunken brilliance or absolute absurdity, depending on one's perspective. I recalled the moment I had caught her off guard with my earlier performance and, well, decided to raise the stakes.
Before any coherent thought could intervene, I leaned in. My lips brushed against hers, featherlight at first, a fleeting contact that left her frozen in place. Ah, the duchess, that ever-composed paragon of grace and control was now wide-eyed and utterly paralyzed.
I was far from finished. Emboldened, or possessed, I pressed further, deepening the kiss with a boldness that my sober self would find mortifying. My lips moved against hers, tasting the faint sweetness of wine that lingered between us. It seemed I had rendered the unflappable Millicent completely undone. Her crimson eyes widened further, her cheeks flushing in surprise. I could practically hear the gears in her mind screeching to a halt.
As my tongue slid past her lips, I caught the unmistakable hitch in her breath. Pressing deeper, my lips moved with bold intent, teasingly licking and sucking on Millicent's lower lip with deliberate slowness, all the while keeping unwavering eye contact with her.
After what felt like an eternity, I felt her grip slacken ever so slightly. Wasting no time, I abruptly pulled away, half-limping and half-stumbling toward the door in what I can only describe as a most unflattering retreat.
Yet, before my fingers could even graze the handle, she was upon me. In one fluid motion, she closed the distance between us, pinning me firmly against the wooden surface.
"Where do you think you are going?" Her breath fanned against my cheek, and as she twisted me to face her. Her gaze fell to my lips. I could see the storm brewing behind her eyes, a mix of desire and frustration, and it dawned on me, perhaps too late, that I had truly stirred a beast.
Without a moment's hesitation, she leaned in, capturing my lips with a fervor that was commanding. Her lips pressed firmly against mine, alternating between soft pecks and insistent pressure, her tongue boldly seeking mine in a way that left no room for subtlety or second-guessing. Her breath grew uneven with startling rapidity.
The maddening part? She was good, far too good. To my dismay, I found myself responding, my lips yielding to her rhythm as though they had a will of their own. A strange, tingling sensation coursed through me, unfamiliar and unsettling. It was so foreign, so intense, that a flicker of fear crept in, leaving me both captivated and utterly unnerved. This was undoubtedly not her first time; her expertise was alarmingly evident. Her skill was so refined that my own breathing began to falter, uneven and embarrassingly telling. What a humiliating revelation.
Finally, I caught myself, my rationality breaking through the haze. With as much force as I could muster, I attempted to shove her away from me, desperate to reclaim some semblance of control in this absurd situation.
"You kissed me first," she murmured against my lips. "You have accomplished your seduction mission, Florance. So, tell me, where exactly were you planning to go?"
Between the wine clouding my thoughts, the shock of her actions, and the sheer exhaustion of the evening's chaos, my knees wobbled. Before I could utter a word, my eyes fluttered shut as my strength gave out.
Yes, I fainted. Utterly unceremonious. And there it is, my first kiss. Not the sort of tale appropriate for seven-year-olds.
I glanced across the table at Benjamin and Jim, their eager little faces staring at me expectantly. I folded my hands neatly in my lap. "It was on my wedding day, of course. My husband gave me the gentlest peck at the altar, a moment of pure matrimonial bliss."