by Croft, Pippa
‘How long has the priory been here?’
‘Nearly nine centuries, give or take. It was built after the manor house at Falconbury as a distant outpost of the abbey at Tewkesbury. The ruins stretch further beneath the trees, along with the old family vaults.’
‘Are your ancestors still buried here?’
‘Most were exhumed when the new house was built, and taken to the family vault in the new chapel.’
Despite the brandy warming my veins, I shiver. Is that where Lady Hunt was laid to rest? Thankfully, Alexander hasn’t picked up on the nuance and takes my hand. ‘There’s something else I want you to see.’
He leads me through the broken walls to the far side of the ruin towards the stone hut.
‘What’s this for?’ I ask when we stop outside.
‘It’s a woodsman’s hut’s but it’s hardly ever used now. Shall we take a look inside?’
The wooden door demands a firm push before it shifts from the damp frame. Inside, my eyes take a second or so to adjust to the dimness. The stone walls are lined with shelves, all largely empty except for a few rusty tins and ancient tools. Stray shafts of sun pierce through holes in the roof and cast light on the floor. The hut may rarely be used, but today it has been spread with fresh straw topped with horse rugs. On the workbench, a bottle of champagne is wedged in an ice bucket, alongside a small wicker hamper and two crystal glasses.
‘Hmm. I guess the woodsman was expecting guests?’
‘I guess he was.’
Hands on hips, I shake my head in amazement. ‘When did you do this? Was it before we made up this morning?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. I’d hate to be that predictable.’
‘You’re not. I asked Talia to drive out here while you got dressed.’
‘You mean she knows you were going to bring me here for sex?’
His fingers trace a line from my temple to my neck, where my pulse beats thickly. ‘You think I’m going to have sex with you here?’
‘You know damn well you are, you bastard.’
The champagne stays on ice because we’re on fire. Alexander backs me up against the workbench, flattening his hands on the worktop. I clutch his buttocks, kneading his glutes though the skin-tight fabric. He crushes his erection into my pelvis as we kiss, snatching at each other’s mouths. He unzips his jodhpurs and shoves them down his thighs together with his shorts, and his cock nudges my thighs. I circle the base with my fingers and he groans a primal cry.
Somehow, I wriggle my jodhpurs and panties down my legs and there’s a clatter as my elbow knocks God knows what off the workbench on to the floor.
His hands grip my hips and almost lift me off my feet as he plunges inside me. I’m not quite ready so he feels tight, but I dig my fingers into his glutes anyway and urge him in deeper. It’s a hot, dirty coupling that makes me feel craved-for, wanted, desired.
And that’s exactly what I need.
As he thrusts inside me, nothing before or after this moment matters. Alexander increases the speed of his thrusts, almost taking me off my feet as his thick shaft slides in and out of me. I’m wetter by the second, but he’s still huge and hot, almost hurting me, but the soreness makes me know I’m alive.
His thrusts are urgent now. I wriggle so I can rub myself against the head of his cock.
‘Yes. Yes. Fuck me! Fuck me!’
My cries drive him over the edge, and he stiffens. I’m not ready to come yet, but I have the pleasure of seeing him climax, eyes lifted up, every tendon, sinew rigid as steel. The power to take him so completely out of this world, and watch him lose control, is intoxicating. His climax seems to go on and on before his body relaxes, he groans and gathers me to him.
‘So you have a stately home and an estate and you decide to take me in a hut. Is this some kind of Mellors role reversal?’
I’m lying in the crook of Alexander’s arm on the blankets, covered in quilted rugs. We still have our clothes and boots on. Although I lie here quietly, my sex is swollen and aching for its own release.
‘If it is,’ he says, stroking my hair, ‘you should be threading daisies through my pubes.’
‘There are no daisies in December.’ I walk my fingers over the crotch of his jodhpurs and his cock stirs again at my touch.
‘True.’ His voice softens. ‘Sorry for being selfish back there. I couldn’t wait.’
‘You can make it up to me.’
‘Oh, I intend to.’
His words are laden with sensual threat and he removes his arm from under my head, lifts the blanket, and scrambles up.
‘May I take your boots off, my lady?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘No.’
He tugs off the boots and my jodhpurs and panties follow, so I’m lying, naked from the waist down, with him kneeling between my bent legs. The straw tickles the soles of my feet through the blanket as Alexander scoops up my bottom with his hands and lowers his head between my legs.
‘Oh God.’
I twist the blanket in my fingers as his tongue makes a long slow sweep from my clit all the way to my entrance.
He lifts his head and slowly and deliberately runs his tongue over his lips. ‘Mmm. Your cunt is delicious, my lady. I must taste it again.’
‘My God, you are filthy.’
His eyes gleam wickedly. ‘You have no idea.’
My groan rents the air as he licks me again and sighs with pleasure. OK, Todd was willing to go down on me, but Alexander savours me like I’m the rarest delicacy. Every nerve ending sizzles as he flicks his tongue over my clitoris and then blows on the nub, and flicks and blows again. It’s the gentlest of sensations, but leaves me whimpering as if I’m in pain.
‘Yes. Do it.’
‘Manners.’
‘Do it, please.’ I have no problem with begging.
‘That’s better.’
His hot, wet tongue circles my clit relentlessly as I clutch his back and moan in ecstasy. I can’t keep my hips still any longer and buck them towards his face. My climax is so near, my sex pulses. There’s a fullness as he pushes two fingers inside me and withdraws them, holding them up, glistening with my juices.
‘You’re ready this time.’
I hear the zip on his jodhpurs rasp down, and he edges the tip of his cock inside me. He slides into me, gliding easily through my wetness to my core, and it only takes a few thrusts before I come hard. Alexander comes soon after, and collapses beside me, eyes shut, a smile of sheer bliss on his face.
The chill soon dries the sweat on our bodies and above me the first few drops of rain start to drip on the ramshackle roof. The champagne still rests in the bucket, untasted, but we don’t need it. Despite General Hunt and Valentina, and the whole culture shock that is Falconbury, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.
Chapter Twenty
I wake at eight thirty the next morning to the sound of hushed but urgent voices in the corridor outside my room. It’s the staff and they sound pretty stressed. Through the window, I hear the crunch of gravel and get out of bed.
Or rather I hobble – my day in the saddle, and almost out of it. I think my butt must be bruised, my thighs still ache from gripping the horse and there’s a stiffness across the back of my shoulders from trying to rein in Calliope’s head. When I do make it to the window, the staff are already buzzing about the front of the house, setting up trestle tables. Benny is sniffing around them, tail wagging furiously, as if he knows something big is happening.
After Alexander and I left the hut yesterday, we rode back for lunch at Falconbury without further drama of the equine variety or otherwise. General Hunt was out, which I have to say was a huge relief. Valentina, presumably, was still hacking Harvey around the lanes because he wasn’t in his stall when we took the horses back.
Frankly, I was hoping we would bump into her; I’d like to have found out if she deliberately took the only safe horse in the stable, knowing I was due
to ride. Alexander, on the other hand, seemed happy she wasn’t around.
In the afternoon, he took me to do some Christmas shopping in Henley-on-Thames, where they had a few cool boutiques in the narrow back streets. I bought some gifts for my parents and a couple of friends back home, and tried to ignore the mixed feelings I have about the holidays. I can’t wait to see everyone, yet I know it means being separated from Alexander over the long vacation. As well as his skiing trip, he mentioned some vague plans to return to his regiment for a few weeks, which takes care of most of the time we have apart.
But Henley was still bliss. Alexander had also booked a table in a great little bistro overlooking the river – presumably so we could spend the evening away from Valentina and his father. Away from Falconbury, he let down his guard a little; when he’s there, he puts on a suit of emotional body armour as if he’s preparing for battle, but whether that’s with his father or Valentina – or both – I’m not sure.
I can’t say I relish the prospect of spending the day alone while he hunts today, and I still haven’t decided exactly what to do until they return; whether to follow or get a cab out of Falconbury until they get home.
But, as we only have three more days together before my flight home on Monday, the last thing I want is to start today by missing breakfast again, so I dress quickly and knock on Alexander’s door. When there’s no answer, I hurry down to the breakfast room, hoping I’ll find him there alone. I walk in to find no one at all, although a place is laid and the warming dishes are still on the sideboard.
Robert follows me. ‘Good morning, miss. Would you like tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee, please. Am I late?’
‘Not at all, but Lord Falconbury and Lord Sledmere are eating at the hunt breakfast. Miss di Cavinato had coffee taken up to her room.’
‘Oh. Where are they now?’
‘Lord Falconbury’s with his guests, Lord Sledmere said he was going to the stables, I believe, and I think Miss di Cavinato is in her room getting ready for the hunt. Please, help yourself to breakfast, but if there’s anything else you need, ring the bell and one of the staff will come. I’m afraid I have to go now; people have started arriving. The main hunt breakfast will be served outside at nine.’
‘Thanks, Robert.’
His tight smile and quick exit tell me how stressed he is. I guess it’s the biggest day of the year for him and the team, with scores of people arriving for the hunt breakfast and over a hundred for the ball.
I grab a coffee and bolt down some fruit and yoghurt, unwilling to stay out of the action for too long. Before Calliope decided to go AWOL, I had thought of riding out with the hunt, but I’ve had second thoughts. I’m not sure I can handle the kind of horse I’d need to hunt all day, and the last thing I want is to end up on my butt – or worse: in some ditch with Valentina and Alexander’s horsey friends sniggering at me.
By the time I head back up to my room, the hall is swarming with people and full of bags and suitcases. Robert and Helen seem to know them all and are busy allocating rooms. I change into Calvin jeans, my Burberry wax jacket and a pair of Emma’s Hunter wellingtons that Helen found for me, and head outside.
There couldn’t be a greater contrast between last night, when I looked down on the silent moonlit lawn, and now. The grass is almost obscured by people, horses and hounds. Above the baying and yelping as the hounds swarm between the red-coated hunstmen, the air is filled with people calling ‘Good morning’ to each other across the clear, cold air. It sounds bizarrely formal because these people have obviously known each other for years, but I guess it’s part of the ritual.
Some people are waiting in line at the trestle tables where the kitchen staff are handing out bacon rolls and glasses of port, whisky and, judging by the steam rising from the glasses, Glühwein. The driveway is full of horseboxes and swarming with grooms and staff coaxing horses down the ramps from their trailers.
More and more horses gather at the front of the house, until I can’t see the gravel for equine magnificence. There are people in dark jackets, but they only serve to make the bright red coats of the hunt master and seasoned members stand out even more. I spot Rupert in a red hunting coat, laughing with General Hunt. No one speaks to me, yet I can’t help but feel their eyes on me as I head to the stables to find Alexander.
As I round the corner from the house to the yard, I spot Valentina outside the stable block. I stop in my tracks before she sees me. She’s in a black coat, her fawn jodhpurs shrink-wrapped to her bottom and thighs and her glossy mane fastened in a black net. There’s no sign of Alexander, but Talia is there, and I see Benny running around the yard, sniffing madly at anything and everything.
Valentina mutters something to Talia, then points at the stables with her riding crop. Talia, who looks thunderous, nods and heads off to the stables. While she waits, Valentina paces the yard, swishing her crop at the air and checking her watch. Benny lollops up to her and sticks his muzzle at her crotch.
‘Oddio!’
I almost fall into the wall when she brings the crop down sharply on the dog’s back. He yelps pitifully and I clamp my hand over my mouth, bile rising. It’s not in my nature to hate anyone, but I just came within a whisker of feeling that way towards Valentina.
Benny slinks away and I want to run up and hug him, but I feel too angry to leave my spot. I’m worried I’ll say something I really regret if I confront her now.
Talia emerges from the stable, carrying a silk hat. ‘Did I hear Benny just now?’
Valentina twitches the snowy-white stock at her throat. ‘I have not seen him. It must have been one of the hounds. They make such a noise.’
‘It sounded like Benny.’
‘I said you are mistaken.’ Valentina snatches the top hat from Talia. ‘Bring Artemis to the front of the house.’
With a face like fury, Talia marches off as Alexander rounds the corner. He looks incredible in his hunting gear, but also strange and alien. He stops beside Valentina. I can hear their raised voices, but cannot make out exactly what they’re saying, then I realize that some of it is in Italian.
They seem to be arguing, judging by Valentina’s wild gesticulations and shrill tone. Alexander switches to English and I hear mention of Harvey and ‘fucking dangerous’, but I can’t be sure he’s directly confronting Valentina over taking the horse out. I hope he isn’t because I’d rather fight my own battles. I’m thinking of doing exactly that when Alexander throws up his hands in frustration and turns away. Valentina dives after him and cracks her riding crop hard across his behind.
‘Fucking hell!’ He rounds on her furiously while she stands with her hands on her hips, shrieking with laughter.
‘I don’t see you complain before, tesoro.’
They’re only a few yards away now so I shrink behind the wall, holding my breath.
Rubbing his butt, Alexander snaps, ‘For God’s sake, come on or we’ll be late for breakfast.’
I hurry back to the lawns where Robert and his team are still dishing up hot food from silver warming dishes, although most people are mounted now. Everyone seems to have a role and a purpose, even if it’s only to do some serious networking, which I suspect may be the main aim of the day for most. Hovering at the edge, with a glass of mulled wine for company, I feel like a spare part.
Talia and one of the other grooms arrive with two horses. Alexander mounts a magnificent stallion, who’s even bigger than Hotspur. Even with my limited equine knowledge, I can tell from his sleek, powerful lines that he’s a thoroughbred, but boy is he feisty. He looks very highly strung, but also as if he’ll go all day.
Valentina’s on a sparky grey mare, an Irish draught, I think. Admiring eyes turn in her direction, the sea of riders parting to let her and Alexander through. I hear someone muttering ‘such a shame’, which I take as a reference to their broken engagement. Though it hurts to admit the fact, from a distance Alexander and Valentina appear to be the perfect couple. Two beautifully matche
d aristocrats on magnificent mounts with the mere mortals orbiting round them. Around us, the chatter grows louder. Horses snort and stamp, and the yells of the pack rise to fever pitch.
I gulp down my mulled wine, burning my mouth in the process. I’d love to speak to Alexander, but there are so many people I don’t think I can get to him. Briefly, he catches my eye over the throng and smiles at me, but then more horses and riders hide him from view. It’s like being thrown a lifeline in the middle of a stormy ocean, then having it snatched away.
Suddenly Rupert looms beside me on a massive chestnut gelding. ‘You managed to wangle an invite, then,’ he says, sneering down at me. ‘And haven’t decided that there are more interesting things to do back in Oxford?’
‘Like I told you, Alexander had already asked me.’
‘Of course. I forgot. So you’re not going to follow the hunt?’ He casts a contemptuous glance at my wellingtons.
‘I went for a hack with Alexander yesterday, but I’m no hunter.’
‘You could have fooled me.’
The bastard. He’s implying that I’m some kind of gold-digger, but I manage to keep my cool and hold a hand to my ear. ‘Sorry, I can hardly hear you above the dogs barking.’
‘They’re not dogs, they’re hounds, and they don’t bark, they give tongue.’ When he licks his lips, he reminds me of a lizard devouring a fly. ‘It’ll be lonely all day here on your own … you know, I could stay here and give you some tongue, if you wanted. We’ll be quite safe. Alexander will be too busy with Valentina to notice.’
I shudder. ‘Rupes, that’s terribly kind of you, but if I wanted to spend my time surrounded by crap I’d help Talia muck out the stables.’
There’s a blast on the horn and the hounds bay like crazy. Some of the horses start stamping their feet and have to be reined in.
‘Hadn’t you better go play with your friends?’ I say.
He laughs. ‘You’d better enjoy Falconbury while you can. You won’t get another chance now Valentina’s got her claws back into Alexander’s arse.’