Rose Thorns
"So, you don't have a dream about the Devil anymore right?" he said suddenly, his eyes locking onto hers as he closed the book and set it aside.
She didn't want Gilbert to stop coming to her manor. In fact, she wanted him to come even more often, to spend every waking moment in his company. Her thoughts were consumed by him, and she found herself daydreaming about his touch, his kiss, his body pres.
She wanted to feel that sexy mouth, to taste his lips and feel the heat of his body against hers. Every inch of her body ached for his touch, and she imagined him exploring her curves with gentle, knowing hands.
She wanted to surrender herself to him completely, to let him take her to new heights of pleasure and ecstasy.
Beatrice's desire for Gilbert was so passionate that she couldn't resist lying to him, "No, he still comes sometimes," she said, her voice laced with desire.
Gilbert pouted, and then he gently took her hand and squeezed it. The touch of his warm hand sent shivers, and she longed for more. "What if you come to the temple?" he suggested. "Since I couldn't come here every day. Maybe the high priest could make you feel better."
Beatrice's heart raced at the thought of being alone with Gilbert in the temple, but she didn't want anyone else to heal her. "I will definitely come if you're there," she said with a hint of lust in her voice, her eyes locked onto his.
Gilbert couldn't help but let out a chuckle, his eyes filled with desire as he looked at Beatrice. The tension between them was tangible, and they both knew that they wanted each other. Without breaking eye contact, they continued their conversation, their voices low and intimate.
....
After Gilbert was gone, Beatrice was still seated in the same position. As she wanted to get up, she remembered something important. Beatrice forgot that she had a fiance, Edward.
She couldn't deny that she felt drawn to Gilbert, but at the same time, she knew that she was already engaged to Edward.
"I can't believe I'm even thinking about this," Beatrice muttered to herself, feeling guilty for wanting to be with another man.
But as much as Beatrice tried to push her feelings aside, she couldn't deny the passion she felt for Gilbert. Even when she was terrified of his presence, She found herself constantly daydreaming about him - even when she was with Edward.
Beatrice knew that their love was impossible - their class difference alone would make a big problem for her family. But even knowing this, she couldn't help but feel a spark of hope deep within her heart.
'Maybe... just maybe, we could be together,' Beatrice whispered to herself, lost in the fantasy of their forbidden love.
But as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she shook her head and scolded herself for such foolishness.
"No, it's impossible," she reminded herself sternly. "I have a duty to my family and my fiance. I can't just throw that all away for a passing fancy."
With a heavy sigh, Beatrice resigned herself to the reality of her situation. For now, she was fine with Gilbert's imagination in her mind only. She didn't need it to be real.
"It's just a fling," she thought, trying to convince herself that her feelings would eventually fade away.
But deep down, Beatrice knew that her feeling for Gilbert was anything but temporary. It was a burning passion that consumed her every thought and emotion, and she knew that she could never truly be happy without him by her side.
With a heavy heart, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, wondering how she would ever find the strength to choose between duty and desire.
…
Despite the turmoil between Edward and Gilbert, Beatrice found that she couldn't forget about Gilbert. Everything about him lingered in her mind. So she kept inviting him to the Devonshire manor, enjoying their time together in peaceful relaxation.
There was something about Gilbert that always made Beatrice feel calm, even though the Devil and Gilbert both had a sense of familiarity. She knew that they were two separate beings, with different existences entirely.
'They're nothing alike. The Devil in my dreams is dangerous and unpredictable.' She thought to herself, feeling a little scared. The thought of the Devil touching her in real life was both thrilling and terrifying. It was like playing with fire, dangerous and could burn her alive.
She realized that she had not dreamt about the Devil anymore. It was time to focus on the present and let go of the fear. The Devil could not hurt her anymore, and there was no need to be scared.
Right now, Beatrice and Gilbert found themselves in the heart of a beautiful greenhouse, surrounded by lush greenery and colorful flowers. The air was warm and humid, filled with the sweet scent of blooming plants.
Rays of sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, casting dancing shadows across the plants and the floor. In the center of the greenhouse was a large, ornate fountain, its sparkling water splashing gently into the basin below.
As they strolled through the greenhouse, Beatrice and Gilbert took in the sights and sounds around them. They marveled at the beauty of the flowers, with their soft petals and vibrant colors.
"Today the rose looks more beautiful than ever," said Beatrice suddenly, she ran her fingers across the petals of the rose, feeling the cool smooth texture against her skin.
Beatrice gasped in pain as the thorns pricked her fingers, but before she could do anything, Gilbert had taken her hand to his lips. She watched as he gently kissed the wounded finger, his lips lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary.
The pain of the thorns was quickly forgotten as Beatrice felt a rush of desire through her veins.
"Does it hurt?" Gilbert asked, his voice low and husky.
Beatrice shook her head, lost in the sensations coursing through her body. She found herself staring into his eyes, feeling as though she could drown in his emerald depths. "No, it doesn't hurt anymore," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Gilbert's breath was warm against Beatrice's skin as he leaned closer, his eyes fixed on her fingers. "Be careful, my lady," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. "Even the most beautiful things can be dangerous, like these flowers with their thorns."
He paused for a moment before adding, "I would hate for you to get hurt."
Beatrice's heart raced as she felt Gilbert's touch on her hand, his fingers gentle as he inspected the wound. She couldn't help but feel a thrill run through her body at his closeness, the way his breath tickled her neck. Despite the pain in her hand, she couldn't deny the pleasure that came with his touch.
Eventually, they made their way to the fountain, where a small table had been set up for them. They took a seat and poured themselves cups of fragrant tea, savoring the warmth and the rich aroma.
Still with a fast beating heart, Beatrice tried to start a conversation. "So, Gilbert, what about your family?" said Beatrice, sipping her tea.
Gilbert paused in his activity and leaned back, lost in thought. "Everything's great," he muttered to himself, his expression distant and detached. "My big brother's doing well for himself, and my parents are sadly not in this world anymore," he said, looking uninterested.
"Please forgive me, Gilbert. I didn't mean to bring up such a painful memory," Beatrice apologized with a concerned expression on her face.
Gilbert smiled gently at her and placed his hand on top of hers. "It's alright, Lady Beatrice. It happened a long time ago, and I have made peace with it," he reassured her.
"Ohh I see… But you must be quite close to your big brother. I have two brothers myself, and despite their clashing personalities, they're still very close," said Beatrice, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she talked about her siblings.
Gilbert took another sip of his tea, relishing the taste before settling back into his chair. "Yes, we are close. We play together often," he said with a smile. "It sounds like you have a strong bond with your brothers."
Beatrice's cheeks flushed, feeling embarrassed that she looked so obvious about it, and she shifted in her seat. Her eyes flickering towards Gilbert. "Yes, it is," she murmured softly.
Curiosity gets the better of him, Gilbert asked, "And what about your parents? Are they not around much?"
Beatrice's eyes grew wistful. "My father is always busy with his duties as a duke, and my mother... Well, she's busy with herself. It can get quite lonely here," she admitted, glancing up at Gilbert with a hint of longing.
Gilbert's eyes gleamed with a sudden desire. "If you'd like, I could visit you more often. After all, I need to check on the amulet and your condition from time to time," he said, his voice low and husky.
As he spoke, he reached across the table and brushed his fingers gently over the back of Beatrice's hand, sending a thrill of heat through her body.
Beatrice's heart raced as Gilbert leaned closer, his musky cologne filling her nostrils. She couldn't help but notice the way his broad shoulders filled out his priest robe, and the way his strong hands wrapped around the teacup.
She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, but her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted her own teacup to her lips.
"I would be delighted if you would visit me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gilbert's eyes gleamed with anticipation, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her ear.
"I would be happy to keep you company, my lady," he said, his hand squeezing her softly. "And perhaps we could find other ways to pass the time."
Beatrice's pulse quickened as she felt his touch, and she couldn't help but wonder what he meant by "other ways." She tried to calm her racing thoughts, but she knew that she was already under his spell.
As Gilbert leaned closer, their moment was suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Beatrice's eyes widened as she heard the familiar voice of her brother Arthur calling out to her.
"Beatrice, are you here?" Arthur called out as he neared the fountain.