by Amelia Grey
The quickening sensations she felt last time he held her so close surfaced, only much stronger than before. This time, she didn’t fight him or struggle to be released. One reason was that she couldn’t have even if she had wanted to. In her fall and his catching her, her arms became wrapped inside her cape, thankfully covering her sari. But more importantly, she didn’t struggle because, strangely, she felt as if she was where she belonged.
His body was warm, and she felt strength in his embrace. The scent of horse, leather, and shaving soap teased her nose. She stared up at him with no embarrassment and no feeling that being in his arms was the wrong place to be.
“I have several questions,” he said calmly, “but maybe just asking what you are doing out here will answer most of them.”
Her gaze darted up and down his face. “I wanted to see the horses.”
He gently set her on her feet and removed his arms from around her, but didn’t step away. She grabbed hold of her cape with her fingers and held it together so he would not see what she was wearing underneath. She rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin. The sun was in her eyes, and the breeze blew strands of hair across her face, but she couldn’t turn loose of her cape to put her hat back on her head; so much to her consternation, she left it hanging on the back of her shoulders.
“Could you not see them from your bedroom window?” Lord Morgandale asked.
She nodded and then moistened her lips before answering, “Of course. But I have rested for several days now, and I felt the need to get out and stretch my legs. I wanted to see how strong I am. I must leave soon.”
He nodded. “But that doesn’t explain why you were rubbing that horse. He is not yet completely broken, Miss Sweet. He is a dangerous animal. And you should be very much afraid of him, and of me.”
She gave the earl a curious stare, much like the one the smaller horse had given her when she first approached the paddock.
“You worry too much, my lord. I have been around big animals before. They don’t frighten me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and it’s been my experience that most brutes are eventually tamed.”
His eyebrows rose, and slowly his masculine lips formed a smile. Suddenly he was laughing softly. The sound was sensuous and entrancing and seductive. There was something wonderful about seeing his handsome face glowing with genuine laughter. It set her heart to fluttering.
“Do you ride, Miss Sweet?”
“Yes, but not horses.”
He regarded her curiously. “I am going to assume that does not mean what I’m thinking at this moment. Perhaps you should explain yourself.”
“I have no idea what you might be thinking.”
“Thank God for small favors,” he mumbled softly.
“I have ridden on top of elephants many times in India.”
His eyes narrowed again, and he smiled as the breeze scattered his thick dark hair away from his forehead. “You amuse me, Miss Sweet. You have ridden an elephant?”
“Well, I didn’t control him, you understand, as it takes years to learn how to handle a hathi, an elephant; the mahout does that, but yes, in India it’s quite common to ride them. Elephants have been quite domesticated there and are used for a variety of things, including transportation, leisure riding, and work camps. I became quite efficient in climbing on an elephant’s back without the aid of a ladder.”
“And your father knew this?”
There was always a twinge of pain in her chest when her father was mentioned. And she knew there always would be until she either found or reconstructed his formula and delivered it to the Royal Apothecary Scientific Academy.
“Ah, no,” she said softly. “He would not have approved.”
“I believe you. The next time a carnival or fair brings an elephant to London I shall have you prove to me that you can, indeed, climb on top and ride one.”
“I will be most happy to if the mahout or whoever owns the elephant will allow it. And just so you know, my lord, I wouldn’t have fallen off the fence had you not walked up so quietly that I couldn’t hear you. There was no reason for such stealth.”
His brow furrowed, and his lips formed a grim line. “Stealth? Surely you jest.” Without turning around, he pointed his thumb over his shoulder and asked, “Is there a big bay behind me?”
She looked at the reddish-brown horse that stood obediently behind the earl. “Yes.”
“Even if you did not hear my light tread, Miss Sweet, surely you heard Redmond’s heavy footfall.”
She moistened her lips, realizing there was no way to get out of this situation. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t,” she admitted reluctantly. She looked over her shoulder to the big chestnut in the paddock behind her. “I believe I was much too interested in the conversation I was having with Master Brute to pay attention to other sounds around me.”
“Obviously, but tell me, did you take it upon yourself to name my newest stallion?”
Her eyes widened. “Absolutely not,” she replied. “I would never be so presumptuous.”
“Good.”
She felt a smile teasing her lips, and she added, “However, you may feel free to use the name for him if you feel it suits.”
He seemed to reflect on her words for a moment and then nodded. “Now before I completely forget, I must warn you again not to climb on the fence. You could have fallen over it. And if you had, that horse, which you were so sweetly conversing with, might have trampled you.”
“Nonsense. Master Brute is no more dangerous than you are, my lord.”
Lord Morgandale folded his arms across his chest, and his gaze burned hotly on hers. “I can be a very dangerous man, Miss Sweet.”
Her first thought was to ask him to prove it, but instead, she lifted her chin defiantly and said, “Obviously, you like to think so, my lord, but I think not. Like the horse, you snort, paw, and—”
“Paw,” he interrupted, moving in closer to her. “Did you say I paw?”
Her stomach jumped excitedly when his face came close to hers. “Well, perhaps that was going a bit far.”
“Perhaps so. I believe you are deliberately issuing a challenge for me to prove you wrong.”
Was she?
“Am I?”
And if so, what on God’s green earth was making her behave so foolishly?
Because he challenged her in ways she’d never been challenged before, and she enjoyed the banter with him. She looked forward to it. Besides, she had never minded a challenge.
The tightness in his features suddenly evaporated, and she saw nothing but a desirable man who set her pulse to racing.
He lowered his head as well as his voice and calmly said, “Yes, and if you insist, I’m sure I can prove that you are wrong.”
A shiver of expectation raced through her and settled low in her stomach. For some reason this conversation had peppered her with anticipation.
“Can you?”
He nodded. “The question is, should I?”
Arianna didn’t know why, but his words thrilled her so much that she wanted to whisper, “Yes, please,” but instead, at the last moment, for once she resisted her impulsive urge and came to her senses and said, “Perhaps not at this time.”
His eyes swept up and down her face so intimately that her stomach quivered with wanting like she had never experienced before.
“You know that answer leaves the door open for another time, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
He was standing so close she could feel the power of his body and the warmth of his breath. She was completely immersed in him.
She shook her head. Right now, with the speed her heart was beating and the way her stomach was jumping, she wasn’t sure of anything.
Slowly he reached out, gently took hold of her shoulders, and pulled her to him. Without saying a word, he dipped his head low and placed his warm, soft lips on her forehead, and then without lifting them off her skin, he l
ightly kissed between her eyes, down the bridge of her nose, and over the tip until his lips rested so close to hers she could feel them but was certain he didn’t touch them.
“You know, Arianna is a lovely name.”
His lips remained just above hers, yet he didn’t kiss her. It was maddening.
“Thank you,” she managed in a whispery voice.
Arianna felt as if he were weaving a sensuous spell around her, and she didn’t want him to stop. If he lowered his head just a fraction of an inch, their lips would touch. Yet he teased her unmercifully and didn’t let that happen.
She was tempted to make him finish what he started and kiss her, yet she held off, too, and they remained so close their breaths mingled.
He whispered, “Frightened, Arianna?”
“Not yet,” she murmured.
Seven
My Dearest Grandson Lucas,
Though some may disagree with me, they are all wrong. Lord Chesterfield was right when he said: “I would have you very well dressed, by which I mean dressed as the generality of people of fashion are; that is, not to be taken notice of for being either more or less fine than other people; it is by being well dressed, not finely dressed, that a gentleman is distinguished.”
Your loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder
Willpower. That’s what Morgan needed right now and in the worst way, but he was struggling to find it. Miss Sweet was not helping him. Instead of pushing him away, as he thought she would do, she was encouraging him to kiss her.
He hadn’t expected that.
In fact, he was sure that she was silently begging him to kiss her.
She smelled good, she felt good, and she tasted good when his lips had brushed her soft skin. But, with the way he was feeling right now, the last thing he needed to do was kiss her, even though he was aching to do so.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It took every ounce of resolve he had, but Morgan turned her loose and stepped away.
Morgan immediately reached for Redmond’s reins and swung into the saddle. He looked down at Miss Sweet as he pulled his brown leather riding gloves from his coat pocket and put them on. He could see by the questioning look in her bright green eyes that she was stunned by his abrupt withdrawal. It gave him some comfort to know that she was as aroused as he and wanted him to kiss her as much as he’d wanted it.
It was clear she felt bereft, though she tried to hide it by asking, “Are you going for a ride?”
“Yes.”
“May I come with you?”
That was not what he wanted to hear. He shook his head. “That would be as improper as my kissing you, Miss Sweet.”
“Yes, of course,” she said as her courage renewed, and the sparkle returned to her eyes and a smile to her lips. “How could I have forgotten? Should it get out in the halls of London that you had let me ride with you, your reputation would be ruined beyond repair, and I don’t believe you would ever be welcomed in anyone’s home ever again.”
Morgan grinned. She was so tempting. The rules of Society be damned.
“You know, it’s times like this that I think your name should be Miss Tart rather than Miss Sweet.”
“You have told me that before, my lord.”
“I know,” he said and blew out an audible breath. “All right, come here, I’m going to lift you onto my horse in front of me. We’re going for a ride together.”
She stepped toward the large horse with an eagerness that sent a long spear of desire shooting through his abdomen and straight to heaviness between his legs.
She asked, “Are you sure, my lord?”
Oh, yes!
“No, I’m not sure at all. But, even as highly improper as it is, I find I don’t want to deny you this small joy. If the thought of a kiss from me doesn’t frighten you, maybe a fast run along the Dorset coastline on Redmond will scare the devil out of you.”
She laughed as she pulled her bonnet back on top of her head. “You will have to come up with something bigger than a horse to frighten me, and I welcome your trying.”
“I do not need you issuing challenges like that, Arianna. Now turn your back to me before I change my mind. I’m going to reach under your arms, and on the count of three I want you to jump high. I will lift you up and onto the saddle so that you will sit sidesaddle in front of me, all right?”
She nodded and did as he asked. Morgan reached down and took hold of her, counted and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, and seated her sidesaddle in front of him. The instant she landed, he realized he should have positioned her behind him, not in front. His lower body reacted immediately to the warmth of her hip as it nestled right between his legs.
And if that wasn’t enough to take him right up to the edge of his control, somehow while lifting her, her cape and skirt were caught up underneath her buttocks, exposing her shapely legs almost up to her knees. Her cape had fallen open, revealing that she wore some kind of bright pink cloth that was wrapped around her waist and then thrown across one shoulder. The bodice she wore was some kind of short tunic that was cut low at the neckline, showing the perfect swell of her breasts. Her midriff was completely bare, and the skirt fell at least an inch below the indention of her bare waist.
Trying his best to calm his soaring arousal, in astonishment, Morgan asked, “What the devil do you have on?”
Arianna glanced down at her gaping cape, and at last she looked frightened. That gave him a moment’s satisfaction.
“I have on a dress.” She started squirming from side to side as she tried to pull the cape from underneath her so that she could close it.
“That is not a dress, Miss Sweet.”
“Actually, it is called a sari. The top is called a cholis, or in English, a tunic. This is the style of dress for the women of India.”
“I do know that much, Miss Sweet. But is there a particular reason why you have that on rather than the kind of clothing ladies wear in England?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes searched his. “No reason other than comfort.”
“And you thought it would be perfectly fine to wear that outside of the house, in public where anyone around the estate might see you?”
“No, of course not,” she argued. “I didn’t act as impulsively as you might think. I did consider changing before I came outside, but I had watched from the window in my bedchamber for the better part of an hour and saw no one come or go from the paddock. Besides, I meant to be out here only a short time, but then you arrived and, well, you know what happened.”
“Miss Sweet?”
“Oh, all right, you are correct again. I should have taken the time to find my maid, changed my clothing, put up my hair before coming out of my bedchamber; but once again, as my father so often reminded me, I let my impatience rule my common sense.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“My father always said it would be my downfall.”
“He was a wise man.”
“Yes, but I want you to know that I have been completely covered by my cape until you picked me up just now and it tangled underneath me.”
“You aren’t saying this is my fault because I picked you up, are you?”
She pursed her beautiful lips and seemed to think over her answer.
He felt a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Miss Sweet?”
“No, of course not. So does this mean that I can’t go for the ride on Redmond?”
She looked so disappointed that he had to chuckle. He didn’t think he had ever met anyone quite like Miss Sweet. He couldn’t imagine that any other lady would want to ride on a horse with him, and he was quite sure none of the ladies he knew would ever be caught wearing a sari.
“No. I will keep my word, and we will ride to the coast together as I promised.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said and smiled gratefully.
She immediately started moving from side to side once again, trying to pull her cape from underneath her s
o that she could close it over her legs and the sari. Morgan groaned inwardly with every swipe of her hip and buttocks against him. Apparently she didn’t realize that her bottom was pressing right between his legs, causing him immense but gratifying pain with every move she made. All the while, he was finding it most difficult to keep his eyes off the tempting swell of her breasts, the beautiful indention of her waist, and the smooth shapeliness of her legs.
The wide brim of her bonnet knocked his chin, and he grunted.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope that didn’t hurt.”
“No, but perhaps we could push the hat to the back of your shoulders again.”
“Yes, that would work,” she agreed.
They both reached up at the same time, and their hands collided. She smiled sweetly at him and slowly lowered her hands, allowing him to shove the bonnet off her head to hang on her shoulders. The fresh-washed scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and Morgan had the urge to take the length of it and crush its softness in his hands. It felt so damn good to have her so close to him that Morgan’s lower body swelled with desire for her. He didn’t know why he was putting himself through such delicious pain just to give her a ride.
While he straightened her hat, she continued to concentrate on trying to pull her cape out from under her bottom, pressing her hip farther and farther into the juncture of his legs.
When he could no longer take the sweet torture of her movements, he took hold of her arms and said, “Leave it, and be still. You are not accomplishing anything but torturing me.”
She looked down and saw where her hip was jammed against him and gasped. “Oh, why didn’t you tell me I was so close to you… of course,” she said and fell still.
“Never mind, Miss Sweet, you’ve done all you can do to cover yourself. Besides that, I believe the time for modesty has already past. Slide your arms around my waist and hold on. Redmond is young, and he likes to run fast and stop short.”