//CLARA//
Casimir's lips were on my neck, soft and lazy against my skin.
We were still tangled together, sweaty and panting, limbs twisted in the sheets. I didn't bother to cover myself. My breasts were bare to the cool air, the only light coming from the dying gas lamp and the waning moon bleeding through the drapes.
"You climbed the terrace wall again," I said. "I told you that was a death wish."
"I did." His voice was a muffled vibration against my throat, sending a fresh shiver down my spine.
"I couldn't wait for the house to settle. The staff in this place are like ghosts, and I have no patience for hauntings."
Ghosts. I almost laughed.
The entire mansion was buzzing like a kicked hive, servants scurrying through corridors with luggage and silk. In a few hours, this circus would decamp for Newport. Aunt Cornelia was already downstairs orchestrating chaos.
Casimir scaling the walls was the least insane thing happening. And us…in my bed…of course.
