Seduce Corbett

Corbett leads me through Crawford Manor with the same calm precision as before, one hand folded neatly behind his back while candlelight flickers across the endless dark hallways around us. Somewhere below, distant voices drift faintly upward from the dining room along with the clink of silverware and crystal.

Dinner has already begun. Or more likely, they are waiting on Mister Crawford. Either way, I should probably behave myself. Unfortunately, that possibility left the station several minutes ago. “You seem nervous, Corbett,” I say lightly as we descend another staircase.

“I assure you, Miss James, I am perfectly composed," he advises.

“That sounded rehearsed," I taunt.

“I have worked in service for forty-three years," he states dryly. "I have rehearsed everything." He glances back at me with the faintest trace of dry amusement.

"We'll see about that." The hunger beneath my skin has quieted since the bath, but not entirely. It never entirely disappears. Right now it hums softly beneath my ribs like static electricity, sharpened by Corbett’s careful avoidance of looking directly at me for longer than a second at a time. The poor man is trying so hard.

We pass a narrow alcove tucked between two massive bookcases, and I notice a half-open linen closet hidden beside the corridor. Before common sense can tackle me to the floor, I reach out, my fingers closing around his surprisingly thin wrist. His skin is cool, like marble. He stops immediately. “Miss James?”

“You’ve been incredibly hospitable tonight,” I say softly. “I feel like I should thank you properly.” The old butler opens his mouth to respond, but before he can react, I gently pull him sideways, through the door and into a shallow space smelling of lavender and old dust.

He stumbles into the cramped darkness with a faint exhalation of surprise, his back bumping against shelves of folded linens. Corbett makes a startled sound somewhere between confusion and polite panic as the door closes behind us with a soft click.

The space is small and warm and smells faintly of cedar and clean laundry. Shelves of folded white linens rise around us nearly to the ceiling while thunder rumbles softly outside beyond the manor walls.“Miss James,” Corbett says carefully, “I do not believe this is remotely appropriate.”

“No,” I agree. “Probably not.” Before he can speak, I press my mouth to his. It is not a gentle kiss, but a question. His lips are thin and cool, and for a single, suspended second, Corbett freezes completely, before the tension finally breaks beneath his composure.

Then I feel it, a faint, dry shudder that passes through his frame, and his hands come up, not to push me away, but to rest lightly on my shoulders. One gloved hand settles uncertainly against my waist while he kisses me back with the hesitant awkwardness of a man who has spent most of his life denying himself things.

The kiss is a dry, papery pressure, a taste of dust and bitter herbs. And God help me, it is actually kind of sweet. Warmth spreads instantly beneath my skin as the hunger eases slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough to quiet the sharp edge clawing at the back of my thoughts since entering the manor.

Corbett goes rigid, a statue of startled flesh in the dark. Then, slowly, his hands slide from my shoulders to cup the back of my skull, his fingers threading through my damp hair with a gentleness that feels ancient and practiced. His mouth opens, just slightly, and a breath escapes him that is not a sigh.

Rather, it is a silent release of something long held. My instincts, the ones I try to starve, flare to life. Beneath the chill of his skin and the scent of old linen, there's a faint, sweet perfume of something rarely touched. Loneliness, perhaps, or a quiet, disciplined yearning locked away in the silent halls of this house.

My lips part against his, and I draw a single, shallow breath inward, letting my own quiet power uncurl like a tendril of smoke. I do not take, not truly, but I brush against the dormant ember of his desire, letting the faintest warmth of it bleed into me.