Page 57 of The Sound of Seduction
Finally, Stan closed the distance. He lifted a hand and rested it lightly beneath her chin, tilting her face toward him. By the flickering light of the nearby lantern from the carriage, her features seemed impossibly lovely, a portrait of serenity hidingthe storm he could sense beneath. Slowly, as if testing the bounds of reality itself, he lowered his lips to hers.
The kiss was gentle at first, a quiet promise in the stillness of the garden. But the second touch, more certain, unraveled all the restraint he had known. The world shrank to this—her warmth, the soft tremor of her breath against his mouth, the brush of silk against his fingertips as his hand slid to the delicate shape of her neck. The distant night sounds of owls and rustling leaves dissolved entirely, leaving only the steady beat of his heart and the intoxicating closeness of her.
When they drew back, the night air kissed their faces, cool and startling in its sharpness. Wendy’s eyes held his, her lips curving into a smile so tender it caused a pang deep in his chest. The fountain behind her shimmered, its gentle cascade reflecting the scattered moonlight like fractured diamonds.
“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” she said softly, her voice as delicate as a ribbon catching the air.
Stan’s lips tugged into a smile, slow and unguarded, a response he had not given anyone in what felt like a lifetime. “Nor I,” he replied, his voice rich but laced with quiet sincerity.
Then she closed her eyes.
He reached for her hand, drawing her knuckles to his lips for a lingering kiss before tucking it into the crook of his arm. Together, without urgency, they got up and began to wander down the moonlit path, the neatly trimmed hedges framing their private escape. The night, so still, seemed to hold its breath for them, as though even the stars had gathered to watch.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harley Street just after ten o’clock at night…
Kissing in thecarriage turned out to be the best sort of fun and yet it never seemed to be enough, Stan thought. In front of her home, only a short distance from the practice, he helped Wendy down from the carriage, his hand steady beneath hers as they stepped onto the quiet street just down the street from the practice where she now lived with Nick and Pippa. Wendy’s lips curved in that soft, determined smile of hers.
“The house seems dark; they are not home yet. Could we stop by the apothecary?” she asked, almost innocently. “I need to find something before I go home.”
Stan glanced toward the dark windows of 87 Harley Street, his jaw tightening briefly before he nodded. “Of course.”
Thus, they walked in silence, closely together, for about two minutes until they reached the front door of the practice. Inside, the house was eerily quiet, and Stan couldn’t shake the prickle of unease along his spine. The dim entryway bore no signs of life; the Langley’s were hosting dinner for Nick and Pippa, Alfie and Bea were on honeymoon, and Felix and Andre were scattered between Cloverdale House and their friends at 91 Harley Street probably. Wendy’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“We’re all alone here?” he asked casually, opening the door to 87 Harley Street.
“I think so.”
Stan froze as Wendy turned on two gas lights, his breath hitching involuntarily. The sudden brightness flared against a memory—the night he bled out on this very floor. Pain and duty, always intertwined. He said nothing, clenching his fists briefly at his sides to steady himself the shadows in his mind receding only as Wendy’s voice reached him again.
Wendy turned right and made her way to the apothecary, pushing the glass-paneled door open without hesitation. Stan followed, his broad figure brushing the frame of the door as he entered and leaned against the counter.
“What are you looking for?” He didn’t need to hide his curiosity.
“That—I’m not exactly sure.” Wendy began opening the small drawers along the wall, the light glinting off her golden hair as she focused intently on her task.
Stan crossed his arms, one brow lifting slightly. “Is it all right for you to take whatever you need?”
“Oh, yes.” She threw him a quick smile over her shoulder. “I just need to mark it in the ledger for Alfie to restock and set the pricing later.”
Stan relaxed a bit but kept his eyes on her. “Are you looking for a salve for me, then?”
She paused but didn’t meet his gaze, her tone unusually hesitant. “Not exactly.”
“And yet, you don’t seem to know what it is,” he pressed, half-amused, half-bemused.
“I know it’s here somewhere,” she replied, leaning down to rummage through another set of drawers. “I’ll recognize it when I find it.”
“Describe it. Perhaps I can help.”
Wendy straightened just enough to glance at him briefly before continuing her search. “It has to do with frogs.”
Stan arched a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Frogs?”
“Yes, something related to external fertilization.” The words left her mouth with such matter-of-fact certainty that Stan’s train of thought promptly derailed. He scratched his neck, trying to process her logic.
“What exactly does external fertilization in frogs have to do with me?”
