His jeweled eyes glinted down from beneath perfectly arched brows. “No. Having seen you in action, nothing about you surprises me.”
That honest observation won a reluctant laugh from Rheda. “I am nothing like the other ladies of the ton then?”
“You are a spitfire and a hoyden. A woman who goes after what she wants with dogged determination.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That almost sounds like praise. Or perhaps envy. I thought men like you always did what you wanted, when you wanted ...” She added dryly, “With anyone you wanted.”
“You have experienced a lot of men then?”
“My father and his friends.”
His eyes held hers as if trying to uncover all her secrets. “I can admire a person who chases their dreams,” he said, his tone edged with respect.
Was he toying with her? “Is that why you are in Kent, my lord? To chase your dreams?”
His laugh was husky and charming—and quite disarming. “Perhaps you are my dream, Miss Kerrich.”
“I think for a man such as you, seducing women is sport.”
But not a bloodsport. She studied the viscount measuringly, as if she’d catch him out. He was a powerfully built man, broad chested and muscular. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. Ordinarily, she was wary of powerful men. Yet surprisingly Lord Strathmore did not make her apprehensive. The few smugglers she’d met had a hint of violence about them. She had the measure of the man before her. His height and strength were not used to frighten; he had subtle weapons far more dangerous to a woman—his face and virility.
No, he did not physically frighten her. Her fear of him was seated on a deeper, more personal level. He tempted her. His aura of masculinity seduced her. She could feel her body succumbing to his presence as easily as a drunkard succumbed to free brandy.
“Come now, Miss Kerrich, not all men are like your father,” Lord Strathmore observed, interrupting her intent perusal.
She caught herself before she stumbled over the cobblestones of the courtyard. Blast him. He really was too perceptive.
“My father is the only experience of men I have. I have yet to meet a man who makes me want to take a risk and test my knowledge.”
Her uneasiness grew. Had he realized that statement was a lie? She did not want to admit her attraction to Lord Strathmore. He made her feel urges she had until recently successfully suppressed. She did not care for the sensations at all. Indeed, the sense of power, of vitality, about him was suffocating.
The sound of Caesar’s neighing greeted them as they approached the stable. He was off to the left in the corral, the scent of the mares making him agitated.
They entered the stables together, Desert Rose calling out a welcome to her mistress. Jamieson appeared out of the shadows.
He nodded his head. “Your lordship. Miss Kerrich.”
To her annoyance Lord Strathmore took over. “Jamieson, can you halter Desert Rose? We’ll start with her since she seemed to take a fancy to Caesar last night.” He turned to Rheda. “Did you wish to go back to the house and keep Lady Hale company? This is not an occupation for a lady to witness. Jamieson and I can take it from here.”
She knew that she should do as he suggested. It was not proper. A proper young lady would never consent to watch animals mating. Besides, Lady Hale was alone. However, his manner of taking charge irked her. “I will stay. They are my horses, after all. I should learn the procedure for future reference.”
His handsome mouth quirked. “I shall look forward to teaching you the ins and outs of breeding.”
Her face heated. “I know what happens. I have seen it before.”
“It?”
Her face was burning. “I have seen animals mating before.”
His tone turned wry as he stripped off his jacket and waistcoat. He discarded his cravat and began rolling up his shirtsleeves. “You may wish to stand back. It can be a messy business.”
She dragged her eyes away from the sight of his sinewy bare forearms, tanned and thick with muscle. The glimpse of smooth skin at the open neck of his shirt made her stomach flutter. She could see his chestnut eyes dancing with laughter. Stiffening her spine, Rheda opened her mouth to remonstrate, but he spoke again. “Caesar can smell Desert Rose. He can tell she is ready for him. A stallion is much like a man. Once he has his sights set on a mare, he will let nothing get in the way of having her.”
“Then this mating should be a success.”
Rufus turned to check that Jamieson was leading the mare out toward the corral. “Don’t introduce them until I get there. We need to check the mare is still receptive and tease the pair for a bit. It’s essential that Caesar knows I’m fully in control, long before Desert Rose reaches him, because if the stallion suspects for one minute that I’m the weaker party, then he’ll become difficult to control.”
“Jamieson had no problems last night. I think you are making this seem more difficult than it is.” And she moved to go around him.
His hand circled her upper arm and pulled her back. At her yelp of pain he dropped her arm as if he’d been burned. “I’m sorry. I did not think my grip was that firm.”
She rubbed her upper arm. “It’s not. My arms are tender from holding Desert Rose steady last night. Your stallion weighs a ton, and poor Desert Rose almost buckled under his weight.”
A frown deepened on his face. “That is why I suggested leaving the task to men,” he said gruffly.
“I am not disagreeing with you. Today I merely want to learn. It is my empire we are trying to build.” She marched passed him out toward the corral.
She did not have to turn around to know his eyes followed her. She could feel the heat of his gaze like a caress.
As soon as they reached the fence Rufus took control of his stallion. “Caesar, here. He’s experienced in breeding and will obey my command. Like all well-trained stallions, even if he is in the middle of copulation he would dismount if instructed.”
The horse obeyed his summons even though Desert Rose was being tethered across the other side of the enclosure, well away from where Rufus stood. “Good boy. Are you ready to have some fun, Caesar? We have an audience today. A woman you must try to impress,” he whispered loud enough for Rheda to hear. He was so transparent. He thought watching horses mating would make her uncomfortable.
He did not know her very well.
“Jamieson, are you ready?”
Jamieson nodded. Rufus put the lead on Caesar and walked him toward the mare. “You always approach the mare diagonally from the side. Don’t let the stallion come up behind her; he will often get too excited and make the mare nervous.”
Rheda watched the stallion’s approach in fascination.
“Notice that I am keeping Caesar far enough away from the mare so that all he can do is reach his neck over and nuzzle her hindquarters. I’m letting the stallion tease her for a couple minutes. To both further assess her willingness to allow him to mount her and to enforce to Caesar that I’m in control. If he knows I‘m in charge he’ll behave himself and he’ll only mount when I give permission.”
Keeping full control of Caesar, Rufus moved the stallion back behind Desert Rose. Caesar began prancing and snorting. On Rufus’s command, “Up, Caesar,” the big stallion mounted the mare. With cheeks flaming, Rheda squirmed upon seeing the size of the stallion’s phallus as Rufus guided it into the mare. Her body flushed with heat. The act of copulation was very different from last night. It had been dark and she had been holding Desert Rose’s head. She could not believe the size of the stallion. No wonder Desert Rose squirmed.
Rufus, damn him, noted her embarrassment. “Unlike people, horses do not thrust.”
Instantly an image of Rufus thrusting inside her filled her head. He would be large, too. Everything about the man was oversized: his ego, his presence, the anatomy of his groin ... What would it feel like? Would she enjoy it as her mare seemed to be doing? She raised a hand to her hot face.
“Hold her
steady, Jamieson; it won’t be long now.”
Rufus was right. Suddenly, Caesar gave an almighty groan, and Rufus began to urge the large stallion to dismount. “The sound he made indicates he has ejaculated. Jamieson, walk Desert Rose around the stable yard for about quarter of an hour.”
Jamieson nodded and moved off.
Rufus let Caesar off the harness, and the horse took off galloping around the enclosure. “He’s pleased with himself.” They walked in silence back to the stable. Jamieson was still walking the mare in the yard.
Once inside the dark and shadowy stables, Rufus walked deliberately toward her. She tried to move out of his way, but she wasn’t quick enough and soon found herself up against the stable wall. Rufus’s voice was soft and sensual, calling to her. “Men, too, can tell when a woman is ripe for the taking.”
Rheda found her gaze riveted on his lips. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Her eyes swept across the rest of his face and froze at the expression that greeted her. He had gone quite still. There was soft fire in his eyes, and his gaze held her spellbound.
He reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape. Her breathing faltered altogether. Then shockingly, he lowered his mouth to meet hers in a feather-light contact.
Once again she was immersed in a rush of sensation at the exquisite caress. His lips were warm and firm, yet enticingly soft at the same time—and much too tempting.
Stifling a gasp, Rheda pressed her palms against his chest and pulled back her reeling head. “I am not a mare to be taken on your whim.”
“So you admit you want to be taken. It is only a matter of when.”
Anger flared, dousing her desire. She shoved him away from her and moved away from the wall. To her disappointment he did not even try to stop her. She stood breathing hard looking at his strong face, arresting and strikingly handsome in the dim stable light. He had a beautiful mouth; his lips were chiseled and generous, and they curved now in a knowing smile as he returned her regard.
“You are delusional,” she scathingly stated.
“You have no idea what you are missing, sweetheart. Unlike animals, people experience passion.”
“I am sure you would know.”
He approached across the stable floor. Her legs were shaking too much to move away. He stood so close her breasts almost brushed his chest, but he did not touch her. “But do you know? Have you ever been so caught up in passion you forgot yourself?” His voice became husky. “I’d like to kiss you again.”
She was trapped by the fire in his eyes. Rufus bent toward her, and his warm breath caressed her mouth. Rheda was powerless to move. His hand cupped the back of her head. He drew her close, and his other arm encircled her waist, pulling her roughly against his solid form. She was swamped by the strength and power of the man, yet not afraid. His lips began to play over hers with exquisite pressure. This kiss was slow and erotic and extremely thorough. Parting her lips, his tongue slid into her mouth, creating an intense yearning inside her.
The effect of his kiss had her reaching to grip his shoulders. His lips deepened the kiss, his tongue penetrating and swirling in her mouth, stroking her desire. The heady sensation he aroused was addictive.
She could not resist letting him continue.
Not when he was assailing her mouth with such silken roughness ... molding, tasting, teasing, and ultimately conquering. All her senses felt pummeled as his tongue worked its magic provocatively against hers, playing a game she desperately wanted to win. But the winning strategy escaped her knowledge. Her body pushed hard against him, and a small moan of surrender escaped her lips.
In response, his kiss only deepened.
She raised her hand to his dark chestnut locks. They felt amazingly thick and silky. His hand that had been holding her head slid down her shoulder and moved to where the square décolletage of her dress exposed the pale skin above her breasts.
She was unprepared for the explosion of feeling that swept her body when his knuckles skimmed the upper swells of her breasts. She gasped against his mouth, but he kept on kissing her, arousing with firm tender stokes of his tongue, slowly driving, deliciously plundering.
She wanted to move closer, to climb right in him and take that which had been denied her for so long. He shifted, and through her skirts she felt the pressure of his sinewy thigh against her femininity. At the same time his hand moved lower to mould and cup her aching breast.
Her moan was decidedly audible within the quiet of the stable, but she was beyond caring as the feverish surge of pleasure overwhelmed her. When his fingertips discovered her nipple through her bodice, fire streaked through her limbs, flooding her veins with shuddering heat.
She could feel the wildness stirring in her blood. It clamored for this captivating man’s erotic assault on her senses. He was driving her mad, encouraging her response and taking her to a place she longed to go.
He was seducing her. And she was content to let him.
Yet, it was his tenderness that stunned her the most. She could feel how he was holding back his own strength and needs. Needs? She could feel the hard, extremely large evidence of his arousal against her stomach. Merciful heaven, what was she doing? A desperate voice protested in her head, more was dangerous.
He was dangerous.
Danger had never been more tantalizing.
Rufus lifted his mouth from hers. He struggled to get his breathing under control. “See what you do to me, Rheda? I’m as eager as my stallion.”
“I’m not doing anything to you. From what little I know of your reputation you’d be eager for any woman. You are merely trying to seduce me.”
“Yes. I am,” he admitted, “and it’s working.”
He caught her blink of surprise at his admission and boast. She cut her gaze away, and he stood mesmerized by the swallow of her throat. “Your touch ... it does excite me.” She turned to look into his eyes. “But a seasoned rake such as you knows that. The signs are there for your senses to see and feel.”
Rufus shook his head to clear it of his driving need to possess her. He could take her, here and now. He knew it, and the beauty before him knew it, too. Yet, he felt dissatisfied. Where was the honor in her surrender? He was too skilled for her to resist, and having seen the primal mating of the horses, her blood was stirred.
Yet, he had to push her. Had to try and break down her resolve. He would not make love to her here even though his body hurt from his restraint. He wanted the first time with Rheda to be in a bed—his bed. Not in a stable reeking of manure and horses. He wanted to take his time, overwhelm her with pleasure, and ensure she fell completely under his thrall.
He would enslave her body. Make her crave his touch. Make her lose her mind in pleasure. Then perhaps she’d be more pliable. Perhaps she’d do anything to share his bed again, including letting her guard down and giving him what he really wanted—information.
The only problem was that each time he kissed her, what he wanted changed. Metamorphosed into something dangerous. Retrieving much needed intelligence began to diminish as his desire to claim her rose to a crescendo, beating loudly through his veins.
He lifted his hand and stroked the back of his knuckles along her cheek.
Her sweep of fair lashes lowered, fanning across her warm skin.
“I do wish to seduce you, sweetheart. But I also desire you. Far more than I would wish,” he added in a ghost of a whisper.
She looked up at him, unblinking. “Do you always get what you desire, my lord?”
He answered with action. He lifted his hands to cradle her face, then stroked his thumb around the corner of her mouth and then across her sensuous bottom lip. He felt the plump swell of it quiver beneath the pad of his thumb. He leaned forward and skimmed his mouth along the shell of her ear. “Yes,” he murmured. “Always.”
With a soft growl he picked her up and walked a few strides and sat her upon some hay bales. He crouched at her feet, sliding his hands over her firm thighs, flat stomach, and crad
led her breasts. He felt her nipples harden through the layers of her clothes.
He watched her face for any sign of denial. The sun shone through the open doorway, but the gloom of the stable caused the light to flicker over the fine bones of her face and the silken sweep of her eyelashes.
Rheda gasped faintly at his touch and trembled when he hooked his thumbs in the edge of her bodice. No corset. It was as if she welcomed his seduction. Her head went back to rest on the bales piled behind her, and with a deft tug he drew the fabric down, taking her chemise with it, until her pink nipples were exposed. The roaring in his ears increased—she was beautiful.
He hesitated, willing her to protest, but the snorts of the animals surrounding them was the only sound.
Rufus leaned forward to draw her left nipple between his lips; she gasped as his mouth suckled and gently nipped. He took that as a sound of approval. He drew her breast more fully into his mouth until she began to make small, breathy sounds of pleasure. Then he moved to the other breast, first circling the nipple with his tongue, teasing her as Caesar had teased her mare, then sucking at the very hardened tip as he gently nipped with his teeth.
Her murmurs grew more demanding. As Rufus cradled one breast and kissed her deeply, his other hand fisted in her skirts. Fleetingly, he knew he should be horsewhipped. He was not so lost in pleasure that he could not appreciate the precariousness of their situation. Anyone could come across them—Jamieson, Daniel ...
Instead he inched her skirts higher, then eased one hand between her thighs, touching her lightly in her most intimate place. He stroked her there, wanting to tease and tantalize. He played her with harmless little touches interspersed with the most unchaste caresses possible.
He drew back in order to feast on the golden curls at the junction of her thighs and breathe in the arousing scent of her.
Then he touched her intimately, and her small gasp made his blood flow molten in his veins. The silken skin between her thighs acted like a compass. All else, even her perfect breasts, were forgotten.
He touched the tangle of silken curls, and his body thrilled as he felt her wetness. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she murmured as he stroked her sensitive flesh.
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