THE WATER RAN THROUGH THE SMALL GAPS ON THE WOODEN FLOOR. His coat, once neat and warm, was now drenched and freezing, hung at a corner, drops falling beneath a bucket on the ground, just as many others he placed because of the weak ceiling that failed to stop the rain.

Shy steps entered his home, flushed cheeks and fast heartbeats, nothing would have ever prepared her for that moment, not to come to Mercy Reeves residence alone, when not even his maid was home, except for his cat, who decided to sit on the sofa and stare intently at her, analyzing her every move.

Mercy was running through his home, placing small buckets of water here and there, closing windows and doors, all so the old and por struture of his house would endure the storm. Just when he finished he gazed back at the poor trrmbling Francesca, whose pastel pink dress was now glued to her body like a greek statues's.

He did not act as a repulsive gentleman and stared, even as tempting her curves were, he only looked at her eyes as he gestured for her to wait as he went back to his room and brought some clothes.

"These are some old clothes I have, may not be very much ladylike, I hope you don't mind." He responded as he gave her the pants and the shirt on her hand. "There is a bathroom at the end of the hallway, you may use it."

She nodded, still a bit shy. "Anthony might be worried about me." Mercy agreed.

"He must be. But there is nothing much we can do, trying to reach your home in this weather would be fatal, we mist we wait until the storm stops." Mercy was reasonable, so she didn't even fight against his idea.

With not much words, Francesca went to the bathroom, still with so much working through her mind as she let the water run. His home. That eas his home, she could not believe it.

How much has she imagined, dreamt rven of how it looked like, and now she was there, just there, in.. she blushed. Tbe same bathtub he used to bath. The thought of seeing a shirtles...or worse, a naked mercy made her face turn comoletely red.

She shook her head. Needed to recompose herself, that wasn't appripriate of a lady to think.

Neither wae appropriate of Mercy to be that nervous, almost sweating cold, as he imagined the sweet Francesca now taking a bath, washing those smooth legs, curves and the wonderful brown hair that was always tied up in a bun.

She was alone with him, stormed in, a man and a woman alone. A man and a woman who had kissed and had unresolved feelings for one another.

He should've stayrd outside in the storm and died, that would have had a batter ending for him.

Mercy sighed, what he was going to do, it was completely inappropriate for a lady as her to he in his home, if anyone saw they would talk about it, they would be ruined, oh God, her brothers would go mad.

He needed to think, yes, think and be careful, keep their distance only until the storm was gone. He should be capable of doing that.

"Um...Mr.Reeves?" Her delicate voice brough him back to his senses, and Mercy felt his face flush, his ehart speed, and those uninvited butterflies invade his stomach, ticklish and fast. Francesca Bridgerton was there, on his clothes, hair parcially wet and down from the bath, smelling like one of the soaps he kept on the cabinet. "I-I'm sorry, just wanted to say I used your hair comb...I hope it isn't a problem."

The large shirt tucked under the pants, the jovial yet new aspect to him to watch her in this other version...how could she look stunning in any single way?

"I-It is no issue, Miss Bridgerton, don't worry." He shook his head, trying not to stare too much. Francesca Bridgerton wearing his clothes!

He could faint at any minute.

"Um..."He mumbled, coughing a bit as he tried to recompose himself. "Please, make yourself comfortable." He gestured for her to sit down at the sofa.

"Thank you." She muttered shy.

Francesca's eyes wandered through the residence, it was neat, organized, the structure a bit old and fragile by time, not very luxurious but modest. It felt warm, like a true quiet home secluded in the ownership of Mercy Reeves.

It was strange, she probably has never been somewhere so quiet and so empty. The furthest she has ever come was other ladies' houses for the afternoon, and they always had servants or relatives nearby.

But Francesca was there, alone, and worse, with a man.

Mercy was rather not like himself, his cheeks were still flushed, he had not bathed yet, still soaked by the rain while he nervously tried to mumble "Would you...uh...like some tea? i could prepare-"

"Do you know how to prepare tea?" She asked amused.

He looked at her for a moment, almost in a way to believe she actually asked that question. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"None of my brothers know..."She muttered. "Neither my sisters...well I don't."

Truly rich and pampered nobles, he was shocked. Not a single cup of tea, if they were left in the wild they'd probably starve to death.

Mercy cleared his throat. "Well, would you like some tea, anyway?" he asked again.

At first she'd refuse any offer not to busy her host, but the thought of having tea prapred by Mercy himself felt too heavenly to refuse. She nodded shy.

"Give me just a moment please." He said with a kind smile as he left to the kitchen.

Francesca Bridgertons rosed cheeks became even brighter in that silent residence. She observed with attention the homemade blue carpets and sage green curtains. Truth is, she was extremely curious to just wander the residence and gather as much information she could about Mercy Reeves, but the fear of getting caughy glued her to her seat.

At a corner some portraits of not well known artists would be hung up, flowers next to sunlight lightning the atmosphere. Mercy's home had the perfect equilibrium of a masculine and feminine energy, which made her wonder who was responsible for such delicate details in his home, hence Mercy did not seem like the type of man who would spend his time in decorations.

Francesca almost jumped though by the gelid humid touch on her leg, followed by a warm contact of fur sliding across her legs, trapped between them. When she looked down, she visualized a black cat very much affectionate and sweet, who greeted her.

Sharp, she recalled. Mercy's cat who took the name from the piano. Francesca smiled softly, she had never had contact with such an animal before, the Bridgertons already had too much energy in their home to allow a pet.

Carefully, Francesca allowed her fingerips to touch the cat's back, making the animal's long tail stretch up in a joyful signal,  and in some time he simply sat up by her feet, allowing his little head to be carressed.

Mercy reeves brought his finest tray and teacup from his porcelain collection when he visualized the scene. The tray almost fell from his hands, touched by the heartwarming sensation that took over his chest. Francesca smiled and played with his cat, Sharp, and she looked so heavenly when interacting with him, even her touches on the animal's fur were soft and gentle, like she was touching something precious.

Mercy felt his face heat up and tried to shake off the feeling, bringing the tea. "I see you've met Sharp." He smiled gently.

Francesca looked at him, a delightned smile on his face. "I did and I mist say he is an adorable little gentleman."

The cat purred at Francesca's compliments, jumping on the couch and lazily lying next to her, drifting to sleep.

"He likes you." Mercy chuckled as he handled her the simple white floral teacup.

"And I like him." She muttered back. "Thank you." She said about the tea, and took a sip.

Mercy waited anxious, a noble as her would probably make a face by taking such a simple herbal tea, probably find it distasteful. He prepared himself for the awful tea back when he saw Francesca's lips curl into a small amused smile, her eyes closed as she hummed in delight softly, causing a vibration on his heart.

"What tea is this?" Francesca looked back at him. "It's wonderful."

"It's black tea...the cheapest one in the market" He tried to force a smile. "If you don't want-"

"I never had something like this" She took another sip "It's so different but refreshing, I don't know how to describe it." Her long fingers traced rhe floral patterns on the cup. "And what a pretty piece of porcelain too."

Mercy found himself without any words, still trying to process Francesca's kindness. "...thank you, Miss Bridgerton."

"I must thank you for your kindness." She said as a thunder echoed in the dark sky outside, the two looked at the window, leaves rushing furiously, it was a hellish weather indeed. "Good thing we left just in time."

Mercy nodded, as the two remained in silence for a moment, listening to the furious storm and the trees rustling and shaking violently outside, scratching the window.

"So..."Francesca couldn't hold back her curiosity. "You live alone in here?"

Merct pondered on the question, she probably asked it because that house was big for more than 2 people, not a mansion, but not a cubicle either.

"My maid, Miss Fickle lives by the other area of the residence." He responded. "She went to her husband's memorial in Oxford today, I offered to escort her, since she's a lady of age, but luckily some of her friends went with her instead."

Francesca felt a relief wash over her, although she wasn't sure why. He lived alone after all, with only an elderly lady that did some chores and lived mostly at the fursthest part of the residence, she was probably the responsible to make the place so neat and decorate it so delicately. There was no other woman after all.

"Oh!" Mercy suddenly exclaimed, breaking the silence. "There's something I'd like to show you, come along." He got up from his seat and walkes ahead.

Francesca, even as shy as she was, followed him, while Sharp stretched himself lazily on the sofa, enjoying the extra warm space now empty.

The two entered another room,  the acoustic muffling the sounds from the others, as a large dakr piano with intricate details and old time inscriptions stood at the center. Francesca looked at it amused, as Mercy sparkled a smile, gesturing to the room.

"Welcome to my refuge" He said sweetly. "This is where the world disappears and the magic happens."

Francesca looked at a desk by the corner, where a pile of music sheets were. She grabbed one in her hands, her eyes scanning fastly the notes. "Is this new?" She asked.

"Let me see..."He delicately took the sheet from her hands, their skins brushing in the process. "No, this one's from 2 years ago. I wrote it after a concert I went to in Germany"

Francesca showed him other papers. He grinned. "This one's I was only 18 when I wrote it...It was about a ship I saw at the port." Francesca smiled, not able to stop admiring his talent. "This is only an old draft, never got to finish it."

"You have so many compositions..." Francesca said it softly, still oblivious, in complete awe. "Why don't you ever play them?"

He tilted his head, setting some of the papers aside, burying his hands in his pants' pockets. "Patrons usually don't like the new pieces in concerts...they always ask for the classics. Chopin, Bethoven, Mozart...the list goes on..." She felt a bit frustrated to hear that. "Lady Danbury was different though, the piece I played at the beginning of the season was mine." He showed her a paper that stood away from the others, carefully kept in a drawer with others ones. "Misty Scarlet."

"I loved that one...it felt so intimate and unique." She spoke admired, barely able to contain her excitement. "Are you writing any newer ones?"

Mercy hesitated to tell her,his hands flexed for a minute before he took another 4 sheets from the drawer.

"They are not very good...but here." He showed her.

These pieces were rather soft, most joyful and sweet, different from Mercy's previous darker, solemnly complex ones. "Morning Prelude" , "Kite", "Aquamarine Gem".

But the last one was brought her attention. It wasn't so joyful, the melody was complex but smooth, like some mysterious serenade. The title had been altered previously. She could see a letter F that was written over with ink, like an attempt to erase the word.

Mercy froze as she saw the piece. "Uhm..this one's only a bad draft, don't mind it" He tried to take the sheet but Francesca, who was way too focused on the notes now, avoided him.

"It's written as a duet." She realized, her light eyes lifting to look at him. "What was the title?"

Mercy only gulped. "I just wrote it wrong before. There's not really a title to it." He lied blantly, but she didn't notice, she was already too distracted for that.

Francesca looked still at the notes, before suddenly turning to him. "Can we play it?"

Mercy hesitated, looking still at her pleading angelic eyes and at the music sheet she could not show a single soul about it. If only she knew the nights he spent writing it, completely consumed by this inspiration that haunted his dreams.

"Do you really wish to?" He asked.

Francesca nodded fastly. Damn him, he couldn't say no to that girl.

Mercy sighed, then led her to the large piano at the room, he seemed quite old and probably the most expensive item in the house, like a luxury instrument he owned with much hardwork, completely different than the dusty one at the oprhanage.

He pulled the booth so she could sit, then set himself by her side, placing the composition at their eye sight's height so they could play it.

"Alright..." He inhaled deeply. "You play these...and I play the other ones." He instructed and Francesca nodded.

Mercy's finger descended on the keys, as harmonious notes rised, his were lower tunes, while Francesca, who joined a bit later, were softer ones.

In a matched tempo, their hands touched one another constantly, almost like the composition was made like this on purpose. But Francesca did not mind, in fact, she was overjoyed by the melody, just as entrancing and enchanting as the beat of their hearts whenever they looked at one another.

It wasn't the usual melody to listen at a ball or a soireé, neither one to teach your student. It was rather sensual, slow but pleading, like an agony of longing poured into the pianoforte.

Francesca felt her breath leave her soul as she visualized Mercy so focused on the melody, his back leaning over, almost drmatically like he was putting a  performance for her, putting his heart and soul into those notes.

It wasn't just music by now, it was a form of communication.

No words, no signs, no gestures. The music spoke for itself, and at that minute, while Francesca followed his sound, she could feel what the music actually meant.

A slow crescendo of longing agony. A begging to be set free or to be replied, all poured majestically into that little duet of contradiction and forbidden desires.

For a moment, Mercy reeves looked into her eyes, taking in the passion he put into those keys now reflected on her, her lips parted slightly, both not able to look away as their fingers descended on the tiles.

The melody still playing, almost over when their hands brushed one another again, making them both sigh.

There was no one only the tension they carried and the secret of their hearts. Before they could even get to the last part of the song, Mercy's large hand took over hers, gripping it tight, stopping it from moving as the notes became distorted and finally dissipated.

Francesca looked at him amused, feeling his hand tremble while holding hers, his head down, eyes closed as he contained his hidden urge.

"That's enough." He whispered, as if he was being stabbed through his heart.

"But Mr.Reeves-"

"Francesca that's enough." He said a bit louder and sternly, gazing back at her with urgency, the two sharing the same obscure message they played. the sound of her first name leaving his lips always felt like the most delightning crime ever created.

Mercy sighed heavily, his other hand runnung through his face tiredly, already regretting the idea of bringing that woman into his home. How could he just ignore her presence when she became the center of his thoughts so easily?

"I think...this is a beautiful song." She delicately said.

"It's an abomination." He interjected, almost defeated.

"It's not...Mr.Reeves..." Her hand cautiously lift his chin and turned him to face her, her eyebrows frowned, lips pouting unconsciously as she faces him so close. "...Mercy, it's beautiful." She whispered, reverbering that message through all his body.

His eyes pleaded to end of his suffering, so conflicted, so adorably tortured. He gazed upon his hand still glued to hers, hia thumb stroking softly her skin, the rain pourinh outside, for just a moment, that room felt like a timeless oasis where only the two of them existed.

"It's called Francesca." He confessed as she looked at him confused. "The name of the melody, it's Francesca." He delicately established, feeling embarrassed  "I've mad it inspired on you."

"...me?" She asked, feeling that to be the most astonishing praise she has ever heard, the most wonderful gift to ever receive.

He nodded. "This, and all the other in that drawer, haven't stopped composing since I've met you." He suddenly let it escape. "Haven't stopped thinking of you, since I met you."

Francesca was barely breathing at taht point, paralyzed, wonderstruck, as Mercy tooo her hand on his chin u
in hers and inhaled the scent from her wrist, his nose touching her skin as he closed his eyes, immersed to the sensation.

"Same soft scent of vanilla every morning..." He whispered almost upon a spell. He touched his lips on her fingertips, almost like he was whorshipping adoring them. "The same talented delicate hands..." He mumbled as her heart slammed on her chest, feeling her body distort and function just as that night in the garden. "The things I could teach you..."He exhaled at last, making her body heat.

He looked back at the piano, then at her, and his presence was so soothing, smooth and gentle, but almost dangerously lusty that it provoked her body in ways she never experienced before. He rest her hands on the tiles again, letting them go, then leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Play it again." He whispered, his hit breath making her flush.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"I want to hear you playing again." He asked in a rather suggestive undertone as he got out of the booth and stood still behind her. "Play it for me, Miss Bridgerton." He demanded.

Almost like a command, Francesca befun to play the melody again, now alone. Experiencing the sound even more explicit and raw as the situation.

Soon enough his hands were caressing her shoulders, large and heavy his breath reached her nape, and she barely could focus on the music sheet.

"Mr.Reeves-"

"Don't stop playing." He ordered again, as Francesca softly gasped by him nibbling on her neck, a soft noise leaving her lips. "Play for me...."He whispered like in a trance, his kisses on her neck hotter and wet, making her notes distorted and distant from what they were supposed to be.

His hands traveled down her waist, just by her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Mr.Reeves, I can't-"

"You can." He insisted, now kissing her cheek, watching her intenly as her face flushed in desire.

But Francesca couldn't, and as soon as her body felt like bursting into flames she stopped playing abruptely, turning around to face her instructor, allowing herself to lean into him and kiss him in ways she never dreamed before.

He moaned into her mouth, sharing the same warmth and lust, making her stand and turn to him, his arms wrapping around her, providing a steady base for what he would do.

With a loud sound of the keys, Francesca was sat onto the piano, her legs wrapped around Mercy, the kisses heated, melting and messy, just as how she was messing his hair, breaths mixed like smoke.

"The things you do to me, aren't fair, Miss Bridgerton..." He whispered, their foreheads touching as their eyes sunk into each other. "I can't... as much as i
i try I can not resist you..."

"I do not wish for you to resist." She whispered, completely given into her hidden wishes. "If only you knew how much I thought of you since that garden..."The sentence send shivers through his body. "How I remembered your hands on the piano but wished they were..."She suspended her sentence, afraid to say it, but Mercy encouraged it. "...I wished they were on me instead."

"For Christ's sake, Francesca..." The two chuckled intimately. "You can't just say things like that and expect me to...be neutral about this." She looked at him anxious. "I believe that is exactly your intention, to make me cross my boundaries...who would've known you could be so wicked underneath that innocent looking façade."

She pulled him into another kiss, now addicted to it, as his fingers trailed down her thighs, wishing he could get rid of those dusty pants she wore.

"No, we can't do this..."Mercy whispered.

"I want this." She insisted, as he almost whimpering as she undid some of his shirt's buttons, the small sight of skin almost made her panic in thrill. "I want you." She looked up at him, who gulped conflicted. "Mercy..."

"You will marry soon Francesca...and not to me."

"But..."She tried to speak.

"You deserve better than me." He whispered. "Someone who can provide all you deserve."

"I don't care about that." She shook her head. "No suitor could ever make me feel the way you do, Mercy. No one could understand me the way you do. With them I feel ignored, with you I feel seen."

He sighed. "So do I, darling." He caressed her cheek, making her eyes close sweetly. "Between being a ghost in a crowd, I'd rather be with you, us, two lonely spirits who find harmony in each other" He sighed, holding her like this was simply surreal, a miracle indeed, and he did not feel worthy of it a sinhle minute. "But we both know we cant continue haunting forever"

Francesca's lips pouted, almost like a child who could not get what she wanted, sadness filled her heart.

"Don't look at me like that." He shook his head. "The choice's not mine or yours to take."

"You have a choice now." She insisted, her eyes darting to the brief skin exposed in his chest, Mercy took a deep breath as he noticed her attitude. "There's just us here, the choice is ours."

"You do not know what you're asking for, Francesca."

"No, no I don't. but I know it isn't likely for a lady to ask, especially an unmarried one, such as me, who wasn't taught about the subject." She explained  carefully, but allowed her fingers to slide down the skin exposed on Mercy's chest, he visibly trembled against her touch.

He grabbed her wrist, eyes piercing into hers with tension. That woman would be his doom if he did not stop her.

"Then you are aware we shouldn't be doing this."

"Shouldn't, but you want to." She caught him, making Mercy tongue tied. "And so do I."

"Francesca as much as I want to...as much as I crave to..."He groaned. "I'd never allow myself to be the one responsible to ruin your innocence."

"My innocence is mine to decide." She softly established, trying to stand up for herself. "What if I want to be ruined? Shouldn't I be the one to decide on the matter?"

"You'll regret it."

"Also my choice to take." She lifted her chin with authority, taking his breath away for an instant. "You'll only escape me if you either run to that storm or if you tell me honestely that you do not want me, Mercy." She spoke serious. "If not, you won't."

Mercy wasn't trapped by the storm, indeed, the storm was the weakest of his matters, the true menace was there, right in front of him, sitting on his piano as the forbidden fruit of Eden.

"Please don't..."He shook his head a bit desperate. "All I'm saying is for your own good-"

"I'm tired of being protected." Franceaca said clearly. "I have a voice to be heard, I have places I want to go, I have lives I want to experience. All I've been doing is to follow orders and pretend to enjoy the environment I despise" Francesca eloquently confessed. "Let me have this. Just this." Her lips touched his briefly again, the sweetest poison he would ever taste. "Please."

Mercy got lost into those eyes, lost in that perfume, that woman herself. Demon, profane temptation that corrupted and infiktrated his veins, infiltrated his heart, soul and brain. he could not think, feel or act differently, she was taking control of it all, and he could not do anything about it.

Francesca Bridgerton was the most quiet threat to ever exist, a deadly, fatal threat that lurked and controlled his feelings, possessed him.

And he did not wish to break free.

Because Mercy Reeves kissed her, and this kis was the begin of their ruin. He kissed her as if the world would end tomorrow touched her as if his life depended on it, and so did her, exploring his body as her a new anatomy project of her own.

If the suffering would exist tomorrow, they'd endure it, if the destiny would destroy them, they'd accept it. Because in that moment, all that mattered was Her fingers tracing his fully exposed chest and the toned muscles by hardwork on the chapel, or how he started to get rid of those awful lants she wore.

Soon enough the piano wasn't enough to suffice their appetite, neither able to muffle the noises that grew further by second.

"Mercy-"Francesca reacted as soom as his fingers found the dampness of her underwear, tracing soft circles that made her head spiral.

He watched her face twitch as he used his fingers, inserfing them slowly, making her gasp. A beautoful espectacle to behold, what a wonderful sight was to ruin Francesca Bridgerton, he could start at her O shaped mouth for hours, to hear her moans in his ear for years, thrust into her warm core for eternity.

Just the thoight of actually uniting himself to her send jolts of excitement through his body, letting her moan in his mouth between kisses until her mess would subside by her first orgasm, eyes rolling back, gripping tight onto his body.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, as Francesca nodded stiĺl high by the sensations.

"That was...that was incredible." she said amused, as the two exchanged smiles.

"This is barely the start of it." he whispered while watching her cheeks flush.

"There's more?" She widened her eyes.

"Much more..."He delicately guided her hand to touch the bulge on his pants, her fingers delicately gripped on it, finsing the nee strange sensation awfully addicting. Mercy groaned by her blant fierceness.

"Does this...feel good?" She asked, watching the big bulge fight to escape the fabric.

"Oh you dont even know how much..."He closed tight her eyes, vleching his jaw. Her movements were stopped by hìs hand holding tight her arm. "Wait."

She looked at him slightly confused, but then realized as he undid his own pants, revealing his cock that she had previously touched, pulsig in agony.

"We should go to my room-" His se tence was interrupted by a gasp, her hand had wrapped around him completely, he could barely handle it. "Fran-"

"Here." She ordered unable to hold any longer. "Now."

His student's request was nusic to his ears, there aas something awfully erotic to fuck her in that piano, his mind went crazy with thoughts about it, fantasies that never came true, untul now.

"Please spread your legs, darling." He asked softly, droppinga  kiss on his cheek as he did what he asked. "Perfect, good girl." He praised, his hands carressing her thighs, before pulling her panties aside. "Are you sure about this, Francesca?"

To give herself to the only man she wished to see, talk, and think about? She had no doubt about it.

"Yes." She responded determined. "Yes, I am."

"It might hurt a bit in the beginning." He warned. "But if the pain persists, you tell me, alright?"

"Of course." she nodded

A sloppy kiss was shared while Mercy entered her, she whimpered in some pain and discomfort at first, her walls sgill adjusting to his lentgh until it sunk into her completely, as an achor in the sea.

"Bloody Hell Francesca..." Mercy exhales heavily in euphoria. "You're so perfect...so, so perfect..."He praised  over and over.

The compliments only increased her thirst for that man, making her loudly moan at the slow movements.  "Mercy...that's...that's so..."

"Does it hurt?" He asked worried, she shook her head. "You must tell me if it hurts, do you understand?" He demanded.

"I will." She responded gently as her nails begun to scratch his back. "I-ah-"

By now the composition room was in a  burning temperature, their bodies melted and blended in perfec t unison, first slowx then gradually fast creating moans and noises that anyone nearby would feel completely embarrassed to listen.

"Oh Francesca..."He hummed as his hips moved back and forth over and over endlessly. "Never believed it could feel so good..."Mercy was lost by her sensations now, there was no turning back. "I've been dreaming if it this since we met..."Her messed hair only adornes a more beautiful figure, his fingers touched her nipples with delight, making her arch her back in ecstasy. "You don't know how hard it is to give you lessons and all I want is to do this with you, repeatedly, until I can assure you of all I feel."

Sweat dripped from their bodies distorted notes sometimes could be heard from the piano by the intensity of their movements.

She could not be only his student anymore hust as he couldn't be her ibstructor any better. She needed to be his, and he needed to be hers.

The burning, adoring feeling of being taken by the man she loved became a memory she would review over and over, Francesca did not wish for it to stop, she wanted to keep going it, never ending, until her own body betrayed her.

Gripping tight onto the instructor, her release was euphoric. "Yes...oh god how can you be so beautiful?" Mercy pampered her with kisses before slamming their hips more, almost destroying the old piano. "Oh, I need you, Fran" He declared desperate. "I need you, I need-"

He instinctively remlved himself from her, before his release, sone tissues byvthe corner helled the mess not to increase further.

Francesca was still therex frozen, completely overhwelmed with joy as she looked at Mercy now towering her umable to get a single sentence correctely.

Remorse and guilt washed over him. he had done it, he corrupted Francesca Bridgerton, and he loved every second of it, actually, be could not wait to do it again. And while looking at her, seeing that bright big smile on her face, he believed she thought the same way.

He carefully cupped her face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"This was so... wonderful"She barely could answer. "Can we do it again?"

He blinked a bit surprised, a small chuckle from his lips. "For now you must rest. And a another bath." he said as he helped her dismount from the piano. "I should get cleane too." He noticed the sticky mess on the tiles. "Cone with me."

Wrapped in a warm blanket, with her favorite musicisn by her side, Francesca Bridgerton drifted to a majestic world of dreams where no one knew her name.

A game where no one would know of her rank or where suitors wouldn't be so insufferable when all she needed was to be alone.

Not so much alone anynore, now she could see the whole world in that man's eyes, the same man that held her tight in his arms while the rain poured outside restlessly.

The man that valued, worshipped her, damn him, he would probably even die for her if he had the chance.

"The storm's away, darling" He whispered, petting her head as she closed her eyes. "Do not worry, I'll be here." He whispered as a mantra. "I'll always be here. Now sleep" He whispered, already knowing the next morning the nightmare woykd begun, and their fairy tale would end. The frog surrended to the prince, but in the end he wouldn't become a prince, he would only be put away. That is, if the princess could still fidn someone to marry, if not, they'd bogh be ruined. "Good night, darling"

Mercy watched the woman he adored finally fall asleep, the rain syill merciless outside.

She had taken her as his own, and adored every srcond of it. Were you happy now, cloudy rainy sky? Was this your plan all along?

If it was, he wished the rain could visit them everyday.