Page 77 of Lyon of Least Resistance

Dear Lord, is Edwards in love with my wife as well?

James took Cordelia’s elbow. “Let me help you up. Do you trust me?”

She met his gaze. “Always.”

He inhaled, his blood warming at the intoxicating scent of her—the delicate top notes of rose and a deeper, sharper scent.

The scent that had filled the air the night she took his virginity.

“Stand aside, Edwards,” James said, elbowing the groom out of the way. Then he caught his wife’s waist and lifted her onto the mare’s back.

She let out a squeal as he took hold of her right leg and hooked it over the pommel. Then he adjusted the stirrups and slipped her feet in each.

“Comfortable?” he said.

“About as comfortable as sitting on an upturned stool.”

She smiled, though apprehension showed in her eyes, and he chuckled.

“You’ll get used to it. The first time I rode, I couldn’t walk straight for a week.” He placed the reins in her hands. “You hold these with your first three fingers, like this. Then pull them until you can feel the bridle. Not too tight, just enough so that she knows you’re there.”

“I’m sure she can feel me on her back, poor thing.”

“You needn’t worry about Atalanta, my dear. My Aunt Bertina used to ride her. She was taller than you and twice as wide—I swear she weighed more than the horse. You’d have liked her.”

“Ah, but would she have liked me?”

“She always told me to marry for love,” he said. “So yes, she would have liked you.”

She gave a shy smile, and James’s manhood twitched with anticipation.

“Thank you, Edwards, you may leave us.”

“But—”

“Now,” James growled. The last thing he wanted was for the head groom to gossip about the cockstand in his master’s breeches that rivaled Hercules in size.

Well…perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad if his cock were compared to a stallion’s.

He caught his breath at the surge in his groin and glanced up to see his wife smiling at him.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed. Then she blushed and looked away.

Heavens! Was she as shy as he? The woman who knew her way around a man, and a bedchamber, looked as coy as a debutante first entering into the world. And perhaps, in essence, she was. Her body had experienced more than most, but her heart had not. To survive her world she must have protected her heart behind a diamond-hard shell. Was that shell now falling away—for him?

James grasped Hercules’s reins and mounted the stallion in a smooth movement.

“Ready? We’ll take it easy at the beginning. I’ll be gentle, seeing as it’s your first time.”

Her color increased and he caught a flare of desire in her eyes. Then, squeezing his mount’s flank, he led them both out of the stable yard into the field beyond.

He needn’t have worried about Cordelia’s lack of experience in the saddle. The mare was a well-behaved animal—Georgiana was an excellent horsewoman and had trained her well. Cordelia, though a little stiff at first, soon relaxed into the saddle. After leading them across the field at a gentle trot, James drew to a halt and his heart soared to see the delight in his wife’s eyes. Her hair had worked loose and stray tendrils framed her face, forming a soft halo in the midday sun. Her cheeks were pink with health, lips parted as she drew breath. She looked like a woman well pleasured—or, at least, how he imagined she’d look when he had pictured her in his mind’s eye while fisting himself to completion at night.

She turned to face him, and his heart jolted at the intensity in her eyes. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Or had she heard him moaning her name while he spilled onto his bedsheets?

What would she think of him if she had? Would she think him the same as the other men—a base creature merely using her for physical gratification? Or could she see that he didn’t love only Dahlia—he loved Cordelia as well?

And here, when the two of them were away from the prying eyes of the servants and the judgmental gaze of the world, he could be free to show how much he loved her.