Page 28 of Prescription for Sin

Emma straightened, smoothing her skirts. “That would depend on the lesson.”

“Sound,” he said softly. “No physical exertion required.”

She should refuse. After tending him through fever, after feeling his life pulse beneath her fingers, maintaining professional distance had become nearly impossible. Yet she found herself asking, “What does sound have to do with physical pleasure?”

“Everything.” He rose from the chair with careful grace, still favouring his injured leg. “Close your eyes.”

“Mr Hughes—”

“Everett,” he corrected. “After seeing me through fever, surely we can dispense with formalities.”

Emma’s cheeks warmed at the memory of bathing his fevered skin, of singing to him in the darkest hours. “Very well… Everett.” His name felt dangerous on her tongue. “Though I fail to see how—”

“Shhh.” He moved behind her, close enough that she felt his breath stir her hair. “Close your eyes. Listen.”

Against her better judgment, she let her eyes drift shut. For a moment, there was only silence and the hammering of her own heart.

“What do you hear?” His voice came low near her ear.

“The clock ticking. Wind in the trees outside. Your—” She caught herself.

“My what?”

“Your breathing,” she admitted. “It’s deeper now. No sign of residual congestion from the fever.”

A soft laugh. “Only you would make such a clinical observation at a moment like this. Listen deeper. What else?”

Emma forced herself to focus beyond the distracting heat of his presence. “The fire crackling. Someone walking in the street outside. A door closing downstairs. Mrs Norris in the kitchen, most likely.”

“Good.” His voice had dropped to a whisper that seemed to caress her skin. “Now listen to my voice. Notice how it changes when I move…closer.”

Her breath caught as he circled her slowly, his words painting pictures in her mind. “The human voice is an instrument of infinite variety. It can command.” His tone hardened, making her shiver. “Or seduce.” Now a silky purr that pooled heat in her belly. “Or worship.” The last word emerged as little more than a breath against her ear.

Emma’s hands clawed at her skirts, suppressing her longing to reach for him.

“Colour is creeping up your neck. Simply from sound.”

“A natural response to stimulus,” she managed, clinging to scientific language like a shield.

“Is it?” His voice deepened further. “Then shall we experiment further? Tell me what you hear now.”

For a moment, silence. Then, so quietly she might have imagined it, he began to hum. The melody was familiar. It reminded her of dark nights during his fever, when she’d sung to soothe his demons.

“You remember,” she whispered.

“Yes.” The word held layers of meaning that made her skin prickle. “Open your eyes.”

She obeyed, finding him much closer than she’d expected. In the afternoon light, she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes, the slight stubble shadowing his jaw. Her fingers itched to trace that jaw, to discover if it felt as rough as it looked.

“Your turn,” he murmured.

“My turn?”

“Speak to me. Let me close my eyes and drink in your voice.”

“I…” She faltered. “What should I say?”

“Anything. Tell me about medicine. About your patients. About the stars. Just let me hear you.”