Page 49 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Blythe had no stomach for her mother’s inferences, but she refused to sour the family’s elation. “Excuse me.” She left the room, dashed down the stairs and out of the kitchen door.

Raucous music, singing and laughter still rang out from the tithe barn.

Blythe collected two pails from the dairy and carried them to the cowshed. The light of the waning harvest moon cast eerie shadows across the yard.

A soft glow already spread from within the shed. Courage, Blythe.

Daisy turned her head while munching on a mouthful of hay when Blythe entered and set down the pails.

Gabriel stood at the far end, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His navy tailcoat hung from a nail in the wall behind him. “You came.”

She gestured to the cows. “I still have my work to finish. A farm girl’s jobs do not cease even during the harvest supper.”

Her body ached to feel the press of his warm chest against hers. How foolish it would be to repeat old mistakes, no matter how much she longed to release the pent-up desire that still burned within her.

She remained immobile, held by his dark eyes.

Gabriel straightened. The cream silk of his waistcoat clung to his lean torso and shimmered in the lamplight. His sleeves remained rolled up above his elbows. Dark hair covered his skin, now tanned following his work in the fields.

Her heart skipped a beat when he prowled towards her. The soft whisper of their inhalations accompanied the jolly tunes from the barn, the grumble of a cow and the cluck of a hen. Her gaze dropped to the curve of his lips.

He cupped her face and melded their mouths.

The fire that had been smouldering within since her return to Midthorpe blazed to life. Her hands went to his waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of his waistcoat and the firm flesh beneath it. Their tongues tangled, their lips devoured, and their teeth clashed.

He guided her backwards until her shoulders hit the wall. His mouth drifted along her jawline. He nipped the skin beneath her ear, and a shiver of ecstasy raced down her spine. She gasped for air in the stuffy cowshed. But all she could breathe in was him: the hint of citrus on his shirt collar, the floral tinge of lavender soap and the musky tang of his skin.

She ached for him to be closer, to be inside her, moving in that dance as old as time, for them to join as they had before. She curled her foot around his calf. Her feverish skin itched to feel his. Her hands fumbled beneath his waistcoat and pulled his shirt from the waistband of his breeches until her fingers skimmed across his smooth skin. She spread her palm across the dip of his lower back and over the curve of his buttocks, her fingers digging in, pressing his hips into hers.

He hissed when she rubbed her pelvis against him. Her loins throbbed, crying out for more. She longed to feel that firm shaft moving inside her. “I want you, Gabriel. Take me.”

His hands grabbed her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist. She grappled with the fabric of her skirt and petticoat, dragging it above her hips and grumbling when it became trapped between them. He angled his pelvis to allow her to remove the barrier.

The fingers that had inspired more than a few feverish dreams drifted along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and delved between the lips of her sex.

She gasped in delight when he found her mons. Those dextrous digits caressed the tingling nub.

“Come for me, Blythe.” Gabriel whispered against her hair while his fingers alternated between circling motions and firm strokes. “Let me take you to the stars again.”

The tension spiralled, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. “Gabriel,” she gasped when the pressure burst inside her skull.

Before the haze of her pleasure had subsided, she fumbled with the buttons of his fall, and her hand wrapped around his stiff penis. She ran a thumb over the slit, spreading the drop of liquid released over the hot purple tip.

He groaned, then captured her lips with such force that her head hit the wall.

The smooth heat of his shaft nestled within the lips of her sex. He jerked his hips, coating himself with her juices and rubbing her still-tingling mons.

She nudged the tip of his penis into her opening.

He plunged in, and they both gasped in ecstasy. Setting a blistering pace, he thrust almost in time with their racing hearts.

She cupped his cheeks. The stubble prickled against her palms. Their gazes held, and their breaths mingled with every thrust. Her eyes rolled when the pressure built again, each stroke taking her higher until she exploded with a strangled cry.

“Blythe…” he moaned, inhaled with a sharp hiss, then slowed his thrusts before he lowered his forehead to hers, their sweat blending between their brows.

The ringing in her ears faded, and jovial singing from the barn filtered back. A soft moo from a cow and a disapproving cluck from a hen would not dampen her elation. She had believed that returning home was what she wanted. But she was wrong. This was home, being with Gabriel as they should have been all these years. Years she had lost because she had been a coward.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I never stopped.”