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So he decided it was about time he took back control.
‘Precisely,’ he said in as clinical a voice as he could muster, given his very, very aroused state. ‘And right now,’ he declared, rolling to his back whilst keeping hold of her, so that she ended up lying on top of him, ‘I would like you to ride me.’
‘R-ride you?’
Ah. That had put her off balance again. As did the way he took hold of her thighs, arranging them on either side of his legs, before pushing her into an upright position, so she could have no doubt about what he meant.
‘B-but that means…’ She faltered, lifting her hands to cover her breasts. He took hold of them gently, but firmly, and moved them out of the way.
‘Yes, it means that I can see you. All of you. And not just your breasts. But your face, as you enjoy me.’
‘I… I…’ Her face went bright red. She twisted her lower lip, biting down on it in delightful confusion.
But she was also wriggling her hips experimentally as he grew harder beneath her. He thought he actually saw the moment it occurred to her that in this position, she had a good deal more power than she’d had thus far, in bed with him. And that the possibilities intrigued her.
But before she had time to feel guilty for her very natural desire to explore those possibilities, he reminded her that he had chosen this. That he was only permitting her the illusion of being in charge.
By gripping her hips and encouraging her into movement.
‘Like this,’ he said, showing her what he meant.
She rocked against him, tentatively, but obligingly. ‘That’s it,’ he said, letting go of her hips to stroke his way up her flanks. ‘Take your pleasure of me…’
* * *
They slept again after that. At least, she did. She sort of dived off him after and buried her blushing face in the pillows so that she didn’t have to look him in the eyes.
His shy bride. He caressed the length of her spine idly as he recalled the way she’d ridden him like a stallion. With her head flung back, her wild red hair tumbling all over her shoulders. And the cry she’d made, when she’d finally reached her peak.
‘Ah, Clare,’ he murmured, kissing the nape of her neck. She grumbled in her sleep and made a faint movement with one hand as though she was brushing off a pesky fly. He chuckled and slid across the bed so that he could press his whole body up against the entire length of hers.
And then slid into a light doze. Feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
It was somebody knocking on the bedroom door that shattered that feeling. A feeling he might have known wouldn’t last.
But even so, he couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice when he bid whoever it was who was knocking to enter.
It was his voice, rather than the knocking on the door, which roused Clare. But when Nancy came in, Clare gave a little squeak and pulled the covers up over her head. As though she had something to be ashamed of.
He ground his teeth.
‘Begging your pardon, my lord, my lady,’ said Nancy, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the footboard, rather than the occupants of the bed, ‘but there has been a man come to the house saying that if you still wish to take the trip in his boat you mentioned, then you won’t find better conditions than what he expects today. And then he said a lot of things about wind direction and tides and so forth which none of us understood. But he was most insistent, he was, that if you wanted to take your trip, then you would need to be down by the harbour within the hour. And we did leave you as long as we could, but Slater said as how you’d gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this trip, so it must be important, and so…’
‘Yes.’ Yes, it was important. It was the whole reason they’d come to this benighted little hamlet rather than go somewhere with some real facilities, like Weymouth.
And it would spell the end of any more nights like last night.
But he had a duty to investigate the circumstances surrounding Archie’s death. And to avenge him, if it turned out that foul play had been involved. No matter who was behind it.
‘Yes, thank you, Nancy,’ he said as calmly as he could, considering a part of him wanted to howl and pull the covers up the way Clare had done, and bury his face in all that soft hair and let the rest of the world, and all his responsibilities go to blazes.
