England - 1820
Louisa Cellini's sensuality is boundless, as is Professor Owen Lloyd-Jones' intellectual curiosity. When an explosive twist of fate brings the scientist and the sensualist together they learn that the answers to some questions involve more than the mind and the body-they also involve the heart...
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
November 13, 2009
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Lying With Louisa by Sahara Kelly
The man in the bed moaned.
It was a slight sound, but it was enough to awaken Louisa Cellini from her doze in the chair near the fire.
She stretched her arms above her head as she stood, letting the wool blanket that had been covering her fall to the floor. Her nude body gleamed in the flickering firelight, and she bent to add another log. Satisfied that the wood had caught, she turned to the bed.
He was tossing and moving his head back and forth on the pillow, his over-long sandy colored hair tangling and matting beneath him.
Louisa eased her hip onto the bed next to him and reached for the cloths soaking in cool water. She gently placed one across his forehead and his fidgeting immediately stilled.
He sighed, as if in relief.
Louisa gently ran her fingers down his beard-stubbled cheek, soothing as much as caressing.
His arm moved out towards her and when it touched her thigh, he turned his whole body, swinging his other arm over her leg and holding on to her.
She adjusted the cool cloth and continued her gentle stroking, over his shoulders, down his forearms, and back to his hair which she carefully smoothed free of knots.
And still he slept.
Louisa found her stroking was having a hypnotic effect on her as well, and she gazed at the man lying next to her with a mixture of emotions.
He was an inventor. A man with a brilliant and inquisitive mind, or so she'd been told. A man who also possessed a body that was mouthwateringly attractive, and designed to catch a woman's eye. Most especially her eyes, which traveled down his muscled length, enjoying the sight of his firm flesh, and his perfectly proportioned manhood, lying relaxed amongst sandy curls.
She could enjoy the sight, but it was marred by the shining wound that crossed from one ankle to corrupt the skin of his calf then traveled on up towards his outer leg. One hand was bandaged, the one that was lying so casually across her thigh.
But Louisa knew the worst wound was not revealed by puckered flesh or clean white bandages. It was the one that he had suffered when his equipment had blown up in front of him.
The astounding flash of light that had singed his eyebrows, splattered him with flaming chemicals--and stolen his sight.
Professor Owen Lloyd-Jones was blind.
* * * * *
He settled himself more comfortably next to Louisa, and his breath warmed her thigh as she watched him.
It had been two days since his arrival, which had been heralded by a rider from London with a message from the Countess of Dunsmere.
Recognizing her friend Beatrice's handwriting, Louisa had slit the envelope open with a smile, only to be intrigued by the message within.
"Louisa my dearest,
Harry and I are sending you a special patient who needs all your skill and attention. We cannot think of another who might help him find his way out of the darkness. Please, Louisa, he needs you very badly."
Within hours the Earl's traveling carriage had pulled up at Montvale House and disgorged its single passenger, the mostly unconscious and injured Professor Owen Lloyd-Jones. The papers tucked into his jacket told the story.
He'd been working in his laboratory when an experiment had gone drastically wrong. The details about magnesium, elements, something called electricity, and vapors, went by Louisa's mind like water over a waterfall. They didn't matter to her.
What did matter was the magnificent man who had been burned by his experiments and robbed of his sight. His eyebrows would grow back to their full bushy state, but his eyes...
The physician's note had been hopeful. He could not, he said, presently detect any permanent damage to the Professor's eyes. He cited a similar tragedy, which had befallen noted investigator Sir Humphry Davy some years before. A malfunctioning experiment had rendered him temporarily blind, but his sight had returned within weeks.
Louisa had rushed to the carriage and found Owen, still drugged with the laudanum that had helped ease his pain. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes seemed black as he stared at nothing.
She had taken his hand in hers and led him to her room, undressing him carefully and laying him between her sheets. His body had called to hers as she cleaned and tended to his wounds, yet he had remained silent. His cock had become aroused as she'd washed him, and she'd been unable to refrain from gently stroking it. Then he'd moaned, and she'd remembered what she was supposed to be doing.
Honey had been substituted for the heavy wrappings on his leg, light cotton now covered the scrapes on his hand, and her own mixture of valerian and herbs was replacing the drugging laudanum. His body was already showing signs of recovery.
All that was left was his eyes.
He must be around forty, thought Louisa, as she settled herself more comfortably on the bed next to him. His hand slipped from her thigh onto the bed, and she found herself missing its warmth.
His body was very nicely sculpted, firm and masculine. His shoulders were broad and his skin was golden. He must have done a lot of research outdoors without a shirt, she mused.
His waist was trim, his chest downy with hair, and his belly lean and flat. He struck her as a man who moved a lot, there was banked energy stored in those muscles. His thighs would be strong and firm and she found herself yearning for their feel between her legs.
She wriggled a little as her speculations aroused her. Slipping her hand to her mound, she felt the moisture pooling and flowing from her hungry flesh. As one who enjoyed a healthful daily orgasm, Louisa knew all there was to know about pleasuring herself.
So why was she responding to the mere presence of this man? What was it about him that made her hot and wet? She could not recall ever becoming this aroused by a male, they were basically unnecessary to her pleasure. And Louisa did believe in her own pleasure, just not in needing a man to achieve it.
She could have fetched one of her favorite toys from her private playroom and used it to relieve her needs, but tonight she was next to a special person--she wanted to savor the moment.
She raised her knee, and his uninjured hand slipped beneath her thigh. A mere slide of her hips and his hand would be on her mound. She found herself powerless to resist.
Her hand closed over his long fingers and guided them to her aching flesh. Spreading her thighs, she touched his hand to her clit...