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“We’ll leave separately and put about you’re away to visit relatives,” his long hands framed her face, his eyes piercing.
The temptation that invaded her nearly chocked. “This is crazy.”
“No, it’s perfect. You’ve got leave, I’ve got vacation. It’s all falling into place.” The light in his eyes told of utter eagerness.
He lowered to kiss her, pressed his hardness on her, and clarity flew through the window.
“I don’t want to be away from you. And I promised Roy
I’d come see him,” he explained after kissing her breathless.
Darn it all to the blazes! She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. His company, a trip to an unknown place. To see his country, his people. And the string of nights in between that…!
“Oh, very well!” Clearly, the lack of oxygen must have addled her thought process.
“Hell, Harriet!” he exclaimed. “You’ve just made it the best summer of my life.”
Then they were kissing again, their bodies joining to embark in an entirely different trip.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Take me in now, Harriet,” sitting on the edge of the inn’s bed, blunt toes on the carpet, he let her straddle him. “I can wait no longer.” Samuel held his utterly erect cock for her. “Ah!” he expelled as they joined their more than ready bodies.
His long arms laced her by the waist to press her down on him. Her tresses fell around her as she wound her delicate limbs around his neck. They kissed with erotic thirst while her hips met his.
That masculine mouth of his dragged down her throat to latch hungrily on one breast, her head fell back with the onslaught of the enjoyment he gave her. When he had caressed this one thoroughly, he headed for the other breast. “I think I prefer this position best,” he rasped, licking her other nipple. “I have access to your delicious breasts.” And proceeded to torment her even more.
If Harriet thought their nights would be steamy, she had been sorely mistaken. They had been downright primal and intense.
They set off from Oxford almost a week ago in a hired carriage and four horses. Correction, he set off as she headed to a coaching inn to pretend to take a coach to Sussex allegedly to visit relatives. Samuel met her there for them to head north. Thus their sensual trip had begun.
In the inns along the way, he hired two rooms for appearance’s sake. But as soon as the establishment went quiet for the night, he slipped silently into hers, where he stayed until dawn. Money proved to be no problem as he said his father gave him more than he needed, and he spent a mere fraction of it mostly on books.
Right at that moment, all thought vanished from her dazed mind as a torrent of pleasure invaded her.
He thrust his hips up, hers meeting his, they moved in tandem in the light from the fireplace. Their need increased, their movements sped. One of his fingers snuck between her thighs to make her fall off the edge, arching her spine and taking him deeper. Her spasms pushed him further, and his seed shot in her with force.
She fell on him and he rested his head on her bosom as their ragged breaths regained their even rhythm.
This inn lay on the edges of the Highlands. The views of the countryside mesmerised Harriet. Old manors, crystalline lochs, dense forests passed by her window, so beautiful she was fast falling in love with the land. And she hoped it was only with the land.
The carriage rides, they spent reading and talking. Which made her see Samuel under a better light. The more she saw of his tender, smart, considerate nature more attached she became. It raged a battle inside her for reality would not allow them more than this limited time. So she avoided thinking about it and tried to enjoy their summer together.
In unison, they lay on the mattress, snuggling under the blankets. The weather got definitely fresher here in the north. Fortunately, she had packed accordingly.
Half over her, his fingers combed through her dishevelled hair, his gaze taking every inch of her face with what could only be called adoration.
“Harriet…” his thumb traced her lower lip. “You know I love you, don’t you?” he rumbled, those eyes boring in hers.
Undiluted sadness invaded her. If only he had not said a thing, she could reside in the illusion that this was one of those clichés of the bachelor and his tryst with a widow merely to tackle his urges.
A large hand stretched to the side-table as he picked up a leather pouch. From inside it, he fished a simple gold ring. “Will you marry me, Harriet?” That he did not kneel or do all the theatrics made the proposal even more sincere and pure. “Give me your hand.” He must have bought it when they stopped days ago in Gretna Green for luncheon.
She did not, instead, she lifted it to line his jaw, meeting his eager gaze with a pensive one. “I cannot marry you, Samuel.” And watched as deep disappointment covered his expression.
“Of course you can. You’re free, so am I.” A scholar’s logic would be irrefutable, were it not their difference in stations.
“You’re the heir to a powerful clan and will need to make a match that reflects it,” she reasoned.
