“Of course I can, but if you continue to throw articles of clothing at me I may take my time.” He leaned against a tree and folded his arms across his chest.
“Rand.”
Silence.
“Rand!”
His lips curled. He waited.
“This is growing tedious. You’re not playing fair.” With obvious annoyance she stepped out from behind the tree and came toward him. “Ow!” she yelped as she hopped on one foot. “I stepped on a rock!”
“I can’t say that removing your boots in the midst of a forest was particularly wise of you.”
“I suppose not, but you were supposed to come get me. This isn’t any fun at all.” When she reached the edge of the trees he stepped in front of her. Shrieking, she tried to avoid his grasp, but he caught her by the waist before she could get away.
“I beg to differ,” he said over her squealing. “I’m having a splendid time.” He hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and headed for the blanket.
“This is so undignified,” she cried. “Put me down. I won’t run off. I promise.”
“I don’t believe I can trust you. You’re an errant chit who had no respect for her husband.” He ran his hand up her leg until it reached the curve of her bottom. “But you do have some redeeming qualities. I’ve never seen a nicer bottom. It’s round and soft like a newly ripened peach.”
She lifted her head and beat on his back with her fists. “Stop fooling with my backside and put me down! The blood is rushing to my head. This is no way to treat a lady. You have to put me down. Now!”
“If you insist.” He dumped her onto the blanket.
She scrambled to a sitting position and tried unsuccessfully to appear irate. “That was so ungentlemanly of you. I can’t believe you did that!”
“When we’re alone, I’m no gentleman.” He quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re no lady. Take your clothing off, Cecelia.”
Her laughing green eyes tilted up at him as she removed her hatpins and tossed the tricorn aside. “I must say that I find it interesting that it’s perfectly permissible for me to remove my clothing in broad daylight but it isn’t permissible for me to dismount Penny without a man’s assistance. There’s absolutely no logic in it.”
“Hush. Just take your clothes off.”
She looked him straight in the eye and said, “No.”
He hasn’t expected a refusal. “No? Have you suddenly gone timid on me? My dear wife, there isn’t an inch of your body that I haven’t seen, touched, kissed or licked.” He drew in a sharp breath at the visual image. “Take off your clothes.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
A chime of laughter escaped her lips. “Because the buttons on my habit are very tiny and they are all in the back. I can’t possibly undo them myself.”
He reached her side in two steps and pulled her to her feet. She turned her back to him and he peered at the row of buttons. “The next time you have a riding habit made,” he muttered. “I want some say in the design. These blasted buttons are no larger than a pea and there are far too many of them.” Even so, his nimble fingers made quick work of them and he soon tossed the one piece riding habit to the ground followed by her chemise and petticoats.
Standing stark naked in the sunlight gave her a sense of freedom quite unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She arched her back and stretched, feeling the deep seeping warmth of the sun penetrate her skin. “Oh, this is heavenly.”
“I can’t argue with you on that.” His lips brushed softly against her neck then traveled to the soft flesh behind her ear. She heard him chuckle as she shivered. “It always works, doesn’t it?” he murmured softly.
It did. Always. She closed her eyes. The world became a red veil as the sun warmed her eyelids. She tilted her head back as he plucked out the hairpins that secured her hair in a loose coil then felt the swish of her hair against her back as he combed it out with his fingers. Placing his hands on the curve of her shoulders, he turned her to face him. She opened her eyes. His heavy lidded gaze flickered over her.
“When I look at you, I feel like a child with a pocket full of pennies who’s just arrived at a village fair. I don’t know what to do first.” For a long while he stood motionless and simply gazed at her.
Her breathing grew uneven and her heart was pounding in her chest. Her muscles contracted and the dampness between her legs grew. She felt a growing desperation for him to do something. Anything. “Pick something. Now.”
His arms came around her and he gently kissed her eyelids, her nose, her mouth. His lips were no more than a whisper against her skin and she would have none of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself up against him. “Don’t tease,” she murmured. “Or I shall do all the ravishing.”
“In good time, my lady.” He cupped his hands beneath her bottom and pulled her up against him. Her fingers threaded through his silky hair and she kissed him slowly, deeply, tasting the wine he had drunk. His fingertips bit into the soft flesh of her bottom. She felt the strain of his arousal and rubbed against him. Her need grew. He slowly lowered her to the ground, his body casting a shadow over her sun warmed skin.
His teeth grazed the hardened peak of her nipple; his tongue circled the pink flesh around it. He took her breast in his mouth and suckled gently as he trailed a fingertip through the wetness between her legs. She lifted her hips in response and caught his hand holding it tightly against her as he caressed the swollen flesh. The soft buzz of insects around them dimmed, the gentle lapping of the water against the marshy grasses went silent. She was aware of nothing but the pounding of blood in her ears and the touch of his fingers as he stroked the slick, heated flesh. He pinched and plucked and tickled until sweet sensation came into full bloom and she cried out. And then he left her, arms flung, legs sprawled, her body completely exposed to the sun.
“My sweet wanton,” he whispered as he tore at his clothes. His skin was warm and damp as he covered her body with his. She reveled in his scent and the feel of his erection pulsing against her belly. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and it took every bit of self-control she had to say, “Stop.”
He went still. “Stop? Christ, Cecelia,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Sit up.”
He took in a ragged breath. “Why?”
“I’m about to ravish you.”
She felt the deep rumble of laughter in his chest before he pushed himself back on his heels. “That’s twice in one morning, you’ve nearly brought me to tears. Once more and I won’t be responsible for my behavior.”
She sat up and pushed at his chest. “Lay down,” she commanded.
“Stop. Sit down. Lay down,” he echoed. “What a nagging wench you’ve become.”
“Lay down. On your back.”
He glanced down at the erect flesh between his legs. “I promise you,” he said roughly as he leaned back on his elbows. “Plopping down on my belly wasn’t even a consideration.”
Cecelia sat beside him but made no move to touch him. His eyes were closed against the sun, his lashes formed a crescent of burnished gold against his cheeks. The muscles in his arms and legs were sharply defined and covered with a dusting of gold hair. A cluster of darker curls sprung up at the base of the rose-tinted corded flesh that flickered and twitched in the sun.
“What are you doing Cecelia?” His voice sounded as if he were in pain.
“I’m looking at you.”
“I suppose turnabout is fair play, but you’ve pushed me beyond endurance.” His voice fell off as she curled her fingers around him and touched her tongue to the bead of moisture that had formed on the tip his penis. The flesh quivered beneath her tongue and a soft groan came from the back of his throat. Guided only by instinct she twirled her tongue around the ridge of his shaft. His fingers moved to the nape of her neck and guided her until she had taken him in her mouth. She moved her lips up and down the satin skin
until he cried out for her to stop and pushed her head away. She looked at him in confusion.
“No more of this. Ride me.” He set his hands on her waist and pulled her over until she straddled him. Her confusion left and she took in sharp breath as he moved his hand around to the junction between her legs and stroked the warm wet flesh with the pad of his thumb. She slowly sank down sheathing him with her softness. His gaze never left her face as he thrust upward to deepen the penetration. His eyes were dark and liquid. At first, she moved against him moving with a slow, steady rhythm. But the skillful play of his fingers brought about an urgency for completion and she soon met his thrusting with a force almost equal to his. A spiraling need tightened within her and she moaned and whimpered until she arched her back and cried out as she lost herself in the bliss of orgasm. Only later when her breath came evenly and her pulse slowed did she realize he had turned her on her side and covered her legs with the blanket.
His hand rested on her hip as she stirred beside him. Her boldness had been a pleasant surprise. “Well done, my brazen wife.”
She rolled over on her back and looked up at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “But why did you have me stop? It gives me pleasure and I thought you would like it as well. At first, you did seem to like it.”
“You were about to unman me. A child cannot come from that type of mouth play.”
“But you liked it?”
He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “God, yes. I adored it.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Must a child always be our intent?”
“No. Enjoyment is reason enough.”
“Good.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I would hate it if you only wanted me for my child bearing abilities.”
He chuckled. “I promise you, there is no danger of that.”
She stretched, causing her breasts to lift into two perfect peaks. He leaned over and traced the areola with the tip of his tongue.
“Who do you suppose he is?”
Baffled, he lifted his head. “Who?”
She sputtered with exasperation. “Our mystery man who has no memory. Who else would I be speaking of?”
“Forgive me for my lack of comprehension.” He stretched out on his side with his head propped up by his hand. “I was feeling rather distracted by the lovely young naked woman beside me. I can’t imagine why. He’s French. I’d say mid-thirties to early forties, a gentleman, though whether he’s an aristocrat, banker, merchant, or politician, I really don’t have any idea. Poor bloke. It must be unnerving not knowing who you are. I can’t imagine.”
“What happens if he never remembers? What will he do?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. He palmed her other breast. She seemed to be doing her best to ignore his ministration, but both nipples were taut. “I’ve someone investigating. We should find out something.”
“Who did you send out? Has there been time enough to contact Bow Street?”
He scowled and his hand went still. “I’ve never used Bow Street. Most of them are little more than thugs.”
“Then who did you send?”
“Someone I’ve worked with in the past.”
“The same man who helped you find the children?”
He nodded. “One of them. I employed more than one man.”
She looked thoughtful. “Where’s Harris?”
He paused a second too long before answering. “What makes you ask that?”
“I haven’t seen him for three days. I can’t complain as Jake gives me far more freedom than Harris. Where ever did you meet him?”
“Jake came with the estate.”
“You know very well I’m talking about Harris. I’ve always had the feeling he was more than just a groom. Where did you meet him?”
“Spain.”
“A Scotsman in Spain,” she mused. “Was he your bat man?"
“No.”
“Was he under your command?”
“No.”
“Then why was he with you in Spain?”
“We were fighting the bloody French. And I try not to dwell on those days. They weren’t pleasant.”
“I wonder if he has a wife or children.”
“Harris?”
“No, silly. The man with amnesia. If he does, it would be terribly hard on them not knowing where he is.” She chewed on her lip as she thought. “Could we still have the house party, if we postpone it a bit? It would seem unfeeling to have a party while he’s still suffering upstairs and I wouldn’t want him to feel excluded.”
“A few nights ago the man had his head bashed in. I’m certain a house party is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.” His fingers tiptoed across her belly and he felt her muscles clench. He grinned. “I can’t say the topic is of much interest to me at the moment, either.”
The color rose in her cheeks and he could tell she was having difficulty keeping a straight face. She bit down on her lip. “But don’t you think it would be rather interesting to have a guest with amnesia?”
“It would certainly top the Sheraton’s dinner party. You could make mention of it on the invitations to be certain everyone within a hundred miles would come and gawk at the poor man.”
She had the grace to look chagrined. “I suppose that was rather ghastly of me, wasn’t it?”
“Exceedingly.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. And there's always a chance that+- someone at the house party might know who he is.”
“Give the man a chance to refuse if he wishes. He’s been through quite a lot.”
He tried to pull her closer but she wormed herself out of his grasp and stood up. “I’m not planning on forcing him. Of course, it will be up to him.”
Rand barely heard what she said as his eyes roamed up the expanse of long white legs that ended with tight copper curls still damp from their lovemaking. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going swimming.”
“Stay here. I’m not done with you yet.”
“I’ll be back. It isn’t as if I plan to spend all afternoon swimming.”
“You’ll get cold.”
“No, I won’t. It’s quite warm out today.”
“The ducks won’t take kindly to you swimming in their lake.”
“They’re hiding in the grass. They have been ever since we came over here,” she said. “And you needn’t worry because I’m a very good swimmer.”
“I know you are.” He sighed but had to admit that the view wasn’t bad as she turned her back to him and waded into the water. Her rounded hips swayed with every step. The copper hair that hung to her waist glinted in the sunlight. When the water reached her hips she dove, her slim legs slicing cleanly through the water. She emerged a few moments later.
Treading water, she called out, “It isn’t cold at all. You should join me.” Without waiting for a reply she swam a few strokes then turned on her back and floated. Her long hair fanned around her head in the water. He could see her pert breasts thrust upward. Swimming was suddenly very appealing. He rose to his feet and went to join her.
Chapter Sixteen
Cecelia dabbed a napkin at the chocolate that had trickled down Rosie’s chin. “Try another sip, but this time, don’t be in such a hurry. It’s very important that you learn how to conduct yourself at tea.”
Their tea table was set up on a circular flagstone patio edged with hollyhocks and snapdragons. The sun was warm and the air fragrant with jasmine and climbing. Water splashed in a tiered fountain, nearby.
Rosie was dressed in her best frock; a pale pink dress with puffed sleeves trimmed with white ribbons and lace. Her straw bonnet was secured with a large pink satin bow. She wore white stockings and tan kid leather shoes. Head bent, brows knitted in concentration, she carefully stirred her chocolate before taking a small lady-like sip then gently set the blue and gold teacup in its saucer and grinned widely at Cecelia.
“Well done,” Cecelia praised her. “You didn’t spill a drop.”
“Yes, you may.” Cecelia picked up the blue china chocolate pot, poured a little more in Rosie’s cup and waited. “What do you say, Rosie?”
“Oh. Thank you, my lady.”
Rosie blew on her chocolate and then took a noisy sip. Cecelia shook her head in reproach.
“It’s hot,” Rosie protested before Cecelia could say anything.
“If it’s too hot you must wait for it to cool. Remember what I said.”
“A lady doesn’t slurp,” Rosie answered solemnly.
Cecelia hid a smile and nodded. “Yes. But slurp isn’t the best word to use in polite company.”
Rosie’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why? Is it a bad word?”
“It’s considered common. And before you ask me why it’s considered common I must tell you that I don’t know. It simply is.”
Rosie pursed her lips until they resembled the pink bows in her hair. “Then what should I say?”
“A lady doesn’t make noise when she sips her chocolate.”
“Very well.” Rosie sighed. “A lady doesn’t make noise when she sips her chocolate.” She managed to take another sip without making a sound.
“Excellent.”
“Mrs. Johnson makes noise when she sips,” Rosie said. “She’s very loud. But Elizabeth says that’s because she’s missing most of her teeth. If she’s allowed to make noise at tea why can’t I?”
“You aren’t missing any teeth.”
“But this one.” She stopped talking long enough to wiggle her bottom front tooth. “Ith looth.”
Cecelia held her napkin to her mouth to stop her laughter.
“May I slurp when it falls out?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Rosie took another careful sip then asked, “Where did the man’s memory go?”
“What?”
“You told us the man’s memory got lost and he doesn’t know who he is. Though I suppose if you knew where it was it wouldn’t be lost because you could tell him.”
Cecelia smiled at her logic. “We’ve learned his name. Just this morning, Thomas received word from the coaching house that the gentleman’s name is Monsieur André.”
The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) Page 25