She hadn't thought he would take her up on the dare. But she was glad he did. What was there to worry about - really? There was no virtue at stake here. She was not a maiden, the world knew this, when their plans were announced the O'Dwyers would not be expecting a virgin bride for their son. So what was the big deal about going into his bed room? Who was going to tell on them? The plants? It was an innocent enough thing to look at on a house tour on the surface.
The way he took her hand, interlacing his fingers in hers, made the corners of her lips turn into a smile. It was oddly intimate when he did this and she liked it. Gentlemen never took ladies hand this way in her world. Following him gladly she was surprised at the room. Neat, somewhat sparse, yet opulent, and romantic. Grinning she looked from him to the room. "Well fit for a brooding romantic," she said her eyes falling on the massive bed. Her bedroom in London was white with gold trimmings, it was bright and airy, but this reminded her of him as a teen somehow. Glancing at the bonsai she arched her eyebrow, she knew enough to know that these types of plants took decades of management, but she assumed at this point her objection to plants in living quarters would become a bit of a running gag for them so she made sure he caught her mock skepticism of the plant before smiling.
He'd pulled her towards him again and she felt her heart quicken immediately. "I like it," she said as he leaned in, his kiss was quick, teasing. "I can think of a way to make it better yet," she said softly reaching up to cup his face in her hand, running her thumb slowly over his cheek.
Her lips brushed his as she spoke in a whisper, "Close your eyes. Imagine, I am yours and you are mine, this is our home, this is now my bedroom too, my mansion, Mrs. Farren Abercrombie O'Dwyer, I've added a vanity near one of the windows, at night you lounge in bed and watch me sit at the vanity brushing my hair, my dressing gown sliding down my bare shoulders because I've become lazy about bothering to cover up and maintain appearances in our home, maybe you can smell the perfume you blended just for me on the pillow next to you, the fire is low and crackling, it's warm and cozy...." she pressed her lips to his softly, letting them linger for a moment before deepening her kiss.
Farren found herself lost momentarily in the vision she'd created. It was meant to ensnare him, the creative, the brooding one, the deep romantic, but she too found herself transfixed at the idea of it. Had she wanted him so badly all along? She had hardly thought of such a thing before they ran into each other at his shop. But she'd almost convinced even herself this was always her dream, this picture perfect evening she'd imagined up. Her free hand found the small of his back and pulled him closer to her as she kissed him. Once again she felt the warm pull from within herself towards him, wanting more.
Slowly she pulled away. A crazy thought entered her mind. She felt bold and playful, something she couldn't remember ever feeling with a gentleman before. "Do you like that idea?" Smirking she leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before slowly pulling out of his grasp. "I must admit, even to me it sounds quite pleasant." There was something in the way she looked at him. Was she teasing him? Challenging him? Even she wasn't sure at this point. This place was getting to her, he was getting to her.
Turning towards the bed her back to him she walked slowly towards the bed. "We will need to convert an adjoining room or something into a dressing room. I'm sure you can imagine but I have quite the collection of clothes and shoes and jewels. I hope you won't be upset but I plan on keeping the Rosier pieces I was gifted. I'm quite fond of them at this point. Then there's the Abercrombie pieces, obviously far more in quantity but while my mother and Grandmother live much remains with them at Dalemain still. I suppose the O'Dwyers of all people know how to store heirloom diamonds and emeralds so I trust there is nothing to worry about," she prattled on about her jewelry as she walked towards his bed. Her demeanor was casual, as if all of this was entirely routine.
At the foot of the bed she paused, her fingertips resting lightly on the edge of the bed. Farren was more than aware of her affect on men. Even if her charms had never done much for her marriage she had learned enough otherwise and thought she knew Declan well enough to know what she was doing now. Looking over her shoulder at him she smiled a little, "Can you see it then? My little idea of how it could be?" She shifted, turning to face him, the edge of the bed pressed against the back of her thighs. She locked her eyes on his, smiling or was it sneering as she carefully stepped out of her shoes. Placing her hands on the bed she gently hoisted herself onto it, her bare feet dangling a few inches above the floor.
Had she suspected 24 hours ago she would be sitting on Declan O'Dwyer's bed? Certainly not. Had she thought about it and how deep down perhaps she wanted him to rush to her and push her back into the bed and climb onto it with her? Maybe once or twice after many glasses of wine. But at this point she was just being careless. Pulling her legs up onto the bed she pulled herself back towards the head of the bed. With a little giggle she let herself lean against the head of the bed, her skirt sprawled out across the bed, her legs straight out in front of her.
"Can you see it? Me sitting here while you wash up and shave in the morning? Reading The Prophet. Drinking my tea. Calling to you in the bathroom to come and read about what that miserable man Voldemort has done now. My maid has come in and wants to help me dress as she always has. You hate this. You like it to be just us in the mornings and evenings. You like helping me button up my dress and placing a little kiss on the back of my neck after you clasp the necklace I've selected for that day. She goes to the closet and selects my dress and lays it out across the foot of the bed but as soon as you appear in the door she leaves. There is an unspoken agreement about this now. You cross the room to my bedside. Lean down and give me a deep kiss before glancing down at The Prophet. I'm distracted from the paper now and reach up to kiss you again. I make some off hand comment about your lips, how I've always thought about them. We giggle. We glance at the clock and you gently take my paper and toss it aside. I set my tea cup on the nightstand. You say something a bit silly like how no one can say anything to you if you're late to the shop because you're the boss. I tease you for being a horrible boss. You make a joke about how I never seem to complain about your being the boss of me. I say something like -- oh Mr. O'Dwyer, we both know I am the boss in this house. You laugh and climb back into bed and say something silly like, indeed you are Mrs. O'Dwyer."
She smiled at him her cheeks a little pink before giggling, "Doesn't it sound nice?"