Page 1 of His Bound Bedmate

Chapter 1

Millicent

I love my job.

In today’s world, there weren’t many women who can say that sort of thing.

In today’s world, the goal of most women was to not be employed at all, but rather to marry well and start making babies.

But I always knew I was different.

It wasn’t that I had no interest in men or marriage…not at all. But from a young age, I had been determined to make my own way in the world. Not to subsume my own interests for the sake of appealing to a man.

Thanks to my family’s connections, I’d been able to attend an all-women’s college in Massachusetts, where I studied the classics. Though I hadn’t been permitted to go up to university—the small sticking point of my sex being insupportable to the men in long gowns themselves—I had instead traveled Europe seeking the best masters in history, art, and literature. Eventually, I found a place I could belong: Faencairn.

The little island off Scotland understood a woman’s mind could be just as lively as a gentleman’s, and so here I was. The sole librarian for the Royal Archives.

Our archives didn’t have patrons—as other libraries must—because researchers had to be heavily vetted before they could even step into the locked rooms. We did not have inventory problems because none of the documents were allowed to leave. And we definitely didn’t have building issues I needed to care about, because we were housed in the lower levels of a centuries-old castle, and there was an entire squad of people in charge of the building’s upkeep.

Soooo…yes.

My occupation was fairly wonderful. Wonderful enough to pull me across the Atlantic from my native America. I’d actually discovered Faencairn during my studies on the Swedish Empire, and had become obsessed with learning all I could about the tiny island nation which had stood independent for so long.

My father was a relatively successful banker in Boston, who approved of my passions and agreed to fund a research trip to Faencairn. Once here, I had learned of this open job position, applied…and I had been in love with the place since then.

That was more than a year and a half ago, and I still thought this position was the most perfect opportunity for a woman like me. I regularly handled medieval documents relating to fascinating social history—birth and death records, pay ledgers, bills—and I was allowed to sit quietly in locked rooms and not have to interact with demanding patrons or difficult library staff.

Because down here in the Royal Archives of Faencairn, it was just me.

Just me…and the Head of the Archives.

I suppose here, he would be called my “superior”, but that was a far drier term than he merited. He was definitely one of the bonuses of the position.

Today I was in a good mood, humming to myself as I considered my good fortune. I was finishing filing a series of castle wage records from the 1790s which I had finished transcribing on sturdier paper.

It had been mindless work, once I’d finished studying the numbers and contemplating inflation, and I was looking forward to something a bit more…exciting to read.

One of the benefits of being a librarian was having access to all sorts of books other women might not know about, and I had recently come into possession of the most fascinatingly illustrated works I’d ever encountered:

A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts.

As much as I adored my position here, today I was looking forward to returning to my small suite allotted to the librarian and reading another few pages of the book. That morning I had begun my day rather rapturously by reading all about The Swooping Hawk.

My cunny was still a bit sore, truth be told.

I had to be rough, in order to capture the sensations I loved.

Recently, I had learned something valuable about myself. Books such as A Harlot’s Guide had unlocked a part of myself I hadn’t been able to name before. The sexual positions described made me long to try them with a partner—someone more skilled than just my fingers.

I’d come to realize I love the idea of a man taking charge of my body like that, of being totally in control of me. I’d even experimented a few times with hot wax and tight clamps on my nipples, just to make sure I wasn’t mad.

The good news is, I was not mad, in case you were concerned.

Just the thought of such experiments could make me breathless, made me squeeze my thighs together beneath my simple black skirt.

I slammed the filing cabinet shut and spread my fingers across the smooth wood, forcing myself to breathe deeply.

Over the years, I’d taken a few discreet lovers…but they’d all fallen disappointingly short. They were just so nice.

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