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He strained his ears as another verse sounded.
The tone was light. Feminine. A woman. Out in these woods.Alone.
David hurried down the path in the direction of the sound. The reputation of the Duke of Granby was well-known to everyone in the area, and he doubted anyone would dare tread on his land without permission. Even so, a woman should not be in these woods alone.
He slowed as he approached the footbridge spanning the stream, head cocked, waiting for his whistler to resume her tune.
The third verse floated up from a patch of tall grass covered with wildflowers. The grass swayed, the tune halting as a mild, feminine curse came from a spray of forget-me-nots.
Andromeda’s dress was pale blue, the exact color of the blooms surrounding her.
He moved across the grass, making no effort to disguise his presence, because he didn’t wish to frighten her.
Christ.
Andromeda was on her stomach facing away from him, scratching away at a piece of paper, a pencil grasped in one hand. The roundness of her delicious bottom was visible from where he stood, the very same backside which had taunted him during the entire game of bowls. He’d thought of her bottom quite a bit in the privacy of his room last night, envisioning how her skin would taste as he nipped at one plump buttock. His imagination had forced him to fist his cock, growling out his release into a handkerchief before he’d felt composed enough to go down for dinner. A loss of control he hadn’t experienced since he was a lad.
She never once looked up as he approached or paused in her sketching.
He could have beenanyone. A poacher. A brigand with evil on his mind. Hell, even one of his guests. Estwood came suddenly to mind.
David’s gaze left the rise of her lovely ass to roam over the curve of one thigh, down the line of a slim calf, watching as she tossed her foot back and forth. It took every ounce of restraint David possessed not to pounce on her like a wild animal.
“I almost mistook you for a blade of grass, except for the whistling.”
Her foot stopped swinging. The tune halted.
“Shrubs don’t often whistle, Your Grace.” She rolled over to face him, lovely features displaying only moderate interest at his unexpected appearance. If anything, she looked irritated to have been disturbed.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
The blue of her eyes fairly glowed among the forget-me-nots. A thick braid hung over one shoulder, a few strands of her hair, spiked with copper, having come free to float around her temples.
David thought her the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I’m not.” She gestured to the area around them, completely at ease. “This is your estate, is it not?”
He wanted to kiss the tart reply from her lips. Devour every inch of her, starting at her ankles and only stopping when he reached the apex of her thighs where he would kiss her again.
“Were you expecting someone else?” He struggled to keep the jealously suddenly surging through his veins at bay, thinking of her rolling about in the grass with Estwood. “Or were you hoping to be set upon by passing gypsies?”
“I didn’t realize there were any gypsies at The Barrow,” she replied. “Haven’t you scared them all away by now? If they’d been so bold as to come into your woods, of course.” Andromeda shot him a smart look, proud of her little insult.
David’s eyes dipped to her bodice. He imagined her nipples to be the color of a pomegranate. “You could have become lost or set upon by someone less appealing than me.”
A feminine snort left her. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Your Grace. I’m sure you are eminently aware my brotherLeoruns a gambling hell. As a Barrington, I’ve come into contact with all sorts of disreputable persons.”
The words were a challenge, flung at him as a reminder of all the reasons he shouldn’t want her even as the space between them grew charged with sexual tension, sparking to life among the bees and wildflowers.
“He’s taught me how to handle certain situations,” she continued. “I’m certain I could outwit a vagrant or a gypsy. Or even you, Your Grace, should it come to that.”
Andromeda was so absorbed in her disdain of him, she’d yet to acknowledge the wanton display she presented. David pointedly looked at the lower half of her body where her silken clad legs were so fetchingly displayed. His father would have said Andromeda’s lack of breeding was clearly apparent. He would have reminded David that Andromeda’s mother had once been a lady’s paid companion. Only a step above a maid.
At his look, her cheeks pinked, and she came to her knees in one graceful movement, fluffing out her skirts around her in a neat circle to hide her previously exposed limbs. Her luscious mouth parted, as if she wanted to speak but didn’t trust herself.
If Andromeda hadanyinkling how erotic David found her current position, she would flee in an instant.
No, he reconsidered.Andromeda wouldn’t run.
