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, he looked at her, a gleam in his eyes. “After all, there is still the matter of your punishment, Miss Herwood.”
Chapter Nine
MY GOD, HALSTEN REITERATED to himself, his cock ready to burst the buttons off his pants. If not for marveling at the beauty of her climax, he would have thrown himself atop her. Bearing witness to her spending was a most provocative event. He could recall nothing more titillating nor invigorating. That he could produce such glorious screams and paroxysm was beyond gratifying. The vision of her legs sprawled open, her back arched against him, her brows knit in twisted pleasure upon her uplifted face, would stay with him for some time. And, for a brief moment he knew he would find no other woman that could elicit an equally intense response from him. He craved her beyond all else.
After packing up their picnic, they rode in relative silence back to the Chateau, via a different route. He needed to concentrate on cooling his ardor and kept his comments to the history of the land and extent of the Follet estate. They came across a clearing and though her awkwardness in riding had not escaped his notice, he invited her to a gallop.
“I would fall from the horse within seconds,” she replied.
He paused, thinking he would do himself no good if he came in contact with her body, but remembering the thrill of his first gallop, he decided to bring his horse alongside hers.
“Come,” he said, holding out his hand. “Put your foot upon my boot.”
She stared at his hand but did as told. He pulled her onto his horse, closing his eyes briefly when her rump brushed his thigh.
“Hold fast,” he instructed.
He urged the horse into a light gallop and felt her body tense. The feather of her hat struck him in the eye, but otherwise, the rush of air against them, the thunder of hooves beneath them was second only to the carnal pleasures of desire. He sensed her gradually relaxing, and though he went far slower than he would have on his own, he derived satisfaction from her enjoyment. When they came to a rest, she seemed disappointed to stop.
“As a youth, I once rode a horse until the beast collapsed,” he said after he had assisted her off the horse. “As it was my favorite stead, I learned my lesson in the most painful manner.”
“I better understand the appeal of riding. I wish I could be as fine a rider,” she said.
Strands of hair flew about her cheeks, which, already flushed from their previous exchange, were now in ripe bloom. Her eyes sparkled, and her complexion glowed with bliss. He became undone, his guard crumbling like a weak dam against a mighty flood. Seizing her to him, he crushed his mouth atop hers. Her lips, soft and pliant, parted beneath his. He felt his blood pounding in all parts of his body—his head, his bosom, and especially his groin. Pushing his tongue deep into her mouth, he tasted of her. Wanting to consume her with all senses, he inhaled her scent, a nondescript yet heady air that lengthened his cock. He pressed his erection against her, feeling as if he might explode if he did not find a way to possess her from the inside.
Startled by the intensity of his assault, she offered no resistance. Indeed, she pressed her own body against his. She moaned as he seared her neck with large, moist mouthfuls. Wanting to devour her, he licked and sucked his way back to her mouth. She grunted into his mouth at the force of his kiss. But this time it was not about her pleasure but his need to claim her body with his.
Yet through the storm he meant to unleash upon her, he found enough restraint to allow her a breath. She gazed into his eyes, her pupils dilated. He confirmed that she did not abhor the onslaught, though he doubted he could cease no matter what her reaction—a troubling recognition that was lost in the surge of raw, animal desire for this woman.
His restraint, however, was tested by another source.
“I say, would that be Halsten Rockwell?”
The voice was at some distance still, but he felt Miss Herwood stiffen in his arms immediately. He kept his gaze upon her, but she had turned to seek the speaker. Steeling his nerves and suppressing the instinct to turn upon the intruder with a vengeance, he managed to step away from Miss Herwood and compose himself. He heard two horses approach but did not turn around for he would only have glared at the riders.
“Lord Rockwell?”
It was a woman’s voice and one he recognized with great surprise.
* * * * *
Deana saw the stunned look in the Baron’s eyes before he turned around to greet the new company, a couple. The gentleman, dressed as handsomely as Rockwell, but with a less solemn and more affable demeanor, was accompanied by a striking lady. Deana had thought her own borrowed riding habit exquisite, but the smart blue dress of the other, with its fur lapels and shiny gold buttons, was the finest outfit she had ever seen and made more attractive by its wearer of such refined features and glorious flaxen hair that she appeared more angel than human.
“Lady Isabella,” Rockwell greeted when the couple had pulled their horses before them. His gaze shifted to the other gentleman and there was no mistaking his stiffened tone. “Lord Devon.”
Lord Devon, however, seemed oblivious or impervious to the cool welcome. His gaze fell upon Deana. “And who is this?”
It was then that the lady seemed to notice the presence of another, and Deana detected a slight narrowing of the woman’s eyes.
Rockwell looked upon Deana for a moment before replying, “May I present Miss Sherwood?”
Deana doubted that she would cross paths with the couple outside Chateau Follet, as they were clearly of superior society, but she was grateful for his attempt to protect her identity.
“Delighted,” Lord Devon responded with a large grin. “Are you staying at Chateau Follet?”
“We are,” Rockwell replied.
“As are we!”
