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“Oh, did you mean to ride here—to this cottage for a reason?”
“Yes, I wanted to give the place a thorough going over. Perhaps a clue might be found as to where the other two men took off to. I haven’t forgotten about them, you know. The magistrate sent off a note that their prisoners aren’t yet speaking honestly about anything and probably don’t know where the other two have gone.”
She pulled her horse to a halt and jumped neatly to the ground. He frowned at her and said, “And that is another thing you must learn to do.”
Oh, she thought, she loved his silver eyes. “What other thing must I learn?”
“To allow a gentleman to assist you, even if you can do it yourself.”
“Always? Must I always allow every gentleman that comes along to assist me?” she said coyly, drawing him closer with the curve of her lips and the sway of her body.
He was towering over her then. “No,” he answered firmly, and his arm slipped around her waist and drew her in close, so close the delicious scent of him wafted through her brain and made her lean into his hold.
His embrace was gentle at first, but suddenly, as though a dam had broken, he crushed her to him and his mouth covered hers. His tongue teased her lips apart and found her receptive tongue and taught her the steps to a new and exotic dance she had never done before.
He took his time, as his velvet tongue gave her a first lesson, and he responded to the way she molded herself into him. His kiss blossomed into another and then another.
She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. She wanted this. She wanted his kisses, and his hands on her body just like this was thrilling. She wasn’t a fool. She knew this didn’t necessarily mean love … perhaps, at the moment, it was lust. Perhaps?
Could she make it blossom—could she make him love her? She couldn’t think straight. She only felt, she only desired. She wanted to be a woman—his woman!
Indeed, she rather thought she could go on kissing him forever. She simply had to make him love her as she loved him.
When he let her up for air, she surprised herself by being collected enough to smile and softly ask, “Is that another thing I must learn?”
“No, no, again, sweetheart. You need no lesson there.” He then set her aside with obvious resolution and moved towards the cottage, saying only, “Stay with the horses.”
She did, but her eyes followed him in total adoration. Here now was a man. Here now was her knight in shining armor. Her stepmama had said for every woman one would come, albeit the armor would be different for each. Here was the man of her dreams.
~ Fourteen ~
FELICIA WASN’T SURE when the thought came into her head. Was it during dinner that it had hit her what needed to be done? It could have been. She could still feel the sensation that rocked her when their gazes had met and held. She felt as though she was burning from the inside out.
At the moment she was overwhelmed. Her body was flushed and needing something that made her clench her thighs. She had at one point closed her eyes when his hand had lingered on her bare arm. Her belly had tightened, and she had been flooded with desire. She knew, absolutely knew, she was a fallen woman, or would be very soon. Men had awful rules. She would be a fallen woman if she broke those rules—the rules of men, even of most of the women of her time. There were other women who wrote about break
ing free from such constraints, and her beliefs matched, in part, with theirs.
She knew he would not come to her room.
There was no point in hoping and waiting for that to happen.
Thus, she had made up her mind and, with that mind-set, had taken extra care with herself, dabbing a bit of the scent he had purchased for her to her ears and between her naked breasts.
She stood before the mirror and regarded herself in the flimsy, creamy-colored and lacy nightdress. She could see her nipples pressing up against the transparent material, and they were hard and made her yearn just as the cleft tingling between her legs made her yearn.
She was like a mare in heat. What an awful thought, but it was true. It was nature … natural.
If she waited till everyone was no longer about, she could make her way to his room unseen. Would his door be locked? She would have to try, and if it was locked … then it was not meant to be.
She had to try. Soon he would accompany them to London and leave her there at Scott’s aunt, and she might never see him again. She couldn’t bear it. She had to make a push to make him feel more for her, want her even more … need her.
If she gave herself to him. If she pleased him and herself by so doing … would he want her forever? What would he think of her? She was going against all the social rules of the day—would that make her less in his eyes? Men took what they wanted. He wanted her … if she offered herself, would he take her?
It was a chance she simply had to take. She bucked up her spirit and went to her door, cracked it open, looked about the dark hallway, and hurriedly tiptoed over the creaky wood to Ashton’s door, a long distance from her own.
She stood there, rattled with herself, with fear, with expectations, with hope, and then reached for the latch. It opened with scarcely a sound, and she went inside, closed it quietly at her back, and stood, uncertain what she should do next.
The room was clothed in black shades of night. Only small embers burned in the fireplace grate, giving off shadowy silhouettes.
