“There is a path about a mile ahead. Follow me.”
Victoria set her mount into motion, then reluctantly dragged her gaze away from the panoramic view to turn her attention to the trail ahead. Her gaze settled instead on Dr. Oliver’s broad back. His white linen shirt stretched across the expanse of golden skin and sleek muscles she so vividly recalled seeing from the carriage yesterday. Skeins of sunlight showered down between the leaves and branches of the trees, gleaming through the strands of his dark hair. He handled his mount expertly, and a shiver of awareness worked its way through her at the sight of his powerful legs straddling the saddle. The way he moved-from the fluid ease with which he rode to the smooth, almost predatory way he walked-had her swallowing to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat. Heavens, old Dr. Peabody, who had been her family physician for years, didn’t look like that, move like that. No, he stomped through the house with all the grace of an elephant.
But there was nothing graceless about Dr. Oliver. With an effort she pulled her gaze away from him, concentrating on the beauty of her surroundings, the sound of the gulls and the surf, the brisk refreshment of the sea-scented air, the glimpses of white-capped blue through the trees. Still, no matter where she looked, she was very much aware of him riding ahead, and she wondered what he was thinking.
They continued on for a quarter hour before he halted near a small pond and dismounted. “The path to the beach is just ahead. We can leave the horses here so they can drink and rest while we’re exploring.” Midnight immediately went to the pond for water while Dr. Oliver approached her. When he stood beside Honey, he wordlessly raised his arms to help her dismount.
Her heart performed the most ridiculous somersault and Victoria inwardly frowned. Numerous gentlemen had helped her dismount in the past without causing any such reaction. But the thought of Dr. Oliver’s large hands gripping her waist, a man whose hands had once caressed her in a manner that proved he was not quite a gentleman, unsettled her in a way that she couldn’t name other than to know that it…
Excited her.
Whatever part of her sensible self that warned her she shouldn’t allow him within ten feet of her was wholly overridden by the emerging daring part of herself that wanted him to touch her.
She looked down at him and easily read the amusement and challenge in his eyes. “I don’t bite, Lady Victoria. At least not very often.”
“A relief to be sure,” she said lightly. “However, are you certain that I don’t bite, Dr. Oliver?”
His eyes seemed to darken and his gaze dipped to her mouth. “As I recall, you do not. However, it is a risk I am willing to take.”
There was no mistaking his meaning, and she barely resisted the urge to fan herself with her gloved hand. Clearly he recalled their kiss, possibly in more detail than she’d suspected. Well, if that was the case, excellent. It could only help her cause, something she’d lost sight of for a few moments.
Reaching down, she rested her palms on his shoulders. His hands grasped her waist and he lowered her. But not in the quick, efficient manner other gentleman had. No, instead she found herself being lowered with a deliberate lack of haste that dragged her torso down the hard length of his. Mischief and something else, something that accelerated her heartbeat, glittered in his eyes. By the time her feet touched the ground, her face felt flushed and her breathing was erratic.
Instead of releasing her, his hands tightened on her waist, and her fingers flexed in response on his broad shoulders. She inhaled sharply and her head filled with the scent of him. Clean linen, sunshine warmed skin, mixed with a hint of sandalwood. Only inches separated their bodies. The last time she’d stood this close to him, the room had been dimly lit, but today ribbons of sunlight embraced them. Looking up at him, Victoria admired the intriguing dark gold flecks in his eyes, eyes that even up close remained maddeningly unreadable. Noted the faint pattern of lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes, as if he were accustomed to laughter. The golden texture of his skin, smoothly shaven, stretched over his high cheekbones and firm chin. And then there was his mouth…
His lips, like everything else about him, had fascinated her the instant she’d seen them. Surely men were not supposed to be blessed with such beautiful mouths. His lips looked simultaneously firm and soft, as if they could issue harsh commands yet yield at the same time. Perhaps it was due to the perfect, precise shape of his upper lip, which contrasted so unexpectedly with the sensual fullness of his lower lip. It was a mouth that commanded attention, and Victoria knew she couldn’t have been the only woman to be held so enthralled by it. As she well remembered, he knew how to use that mouth.
And it suddenly struck her that she wanted him to kiss her again. Wanted to know if the magic she’d experienced three years ago had been real or just a figment of her overactive, girlish imagination. She’d come to Cornwall armed with the intention of sharing another kiss with him, but it hadn’t occurred to her that she would actually want to kiss him for more than mere revenge. A frown furrowed between her brows. Damnation, wanting him-in any manner-was not part of her plan at all. He was the one who was to want her.
Jerking her attention upward, their gazes collided and Victoria inwardly groaned. He’d obviously caught her staring. Bad enough, but even worse was the absence of any hint of desire in his eyes. No, he simply stared at her with an utterly blank expression. Definitely not boding well for her revenge plan.
Clearly this wasn’t an optimal time to try and entice him, as he appeared quite… unenticeable. Well, no matter. She would have plenty of opportunities during her visit, although she couldn’t deny she was irked that he’d so unsettled her while her nearness had obviously not affected him at all. Slipping her hands from his shoulders, she backed up several steps, further annoyed that her knees felt less than steady. His hands slid from her waist, and although he no longer touched her, she swore she still felt the imprints of his palms on her midriff.
Several seconds of silence stretched between them, then he cleared his throat. “Shall we continue to the beach?”
“Please.” She fell into step beside him, and had to grudgingly admit that he was politeness itself, offering his hand in spots where the path was a bit steep, holding back stray branches so she could pass unharmed, catching her arm when she stumbled once. Of course, he certainly should have caught her, as it was entirely his fault she stumbled. If she’d been concentrating on the path rather than the brush of her shoulder against his upper arm, she wouldn’t have missed her step.
But holding onto any semblance of annoyance was completely impossible as they neared the beach. A band of golden sand stretched before them, filling her with the desire to spread her arms and run across the unspoiled grains. The sea breeze caught at her bonnet, and she pressed a hand to her head.
“Most likely a lost cause,” Dr. Oliver said, indicating her bonnet with a nod. “We’re about to leave the protection of the trees, and the wind can gust quite strongly.”
Victoria kept her hand clapped onto her head as they ventured onto the sand. The wind seemed to have died down, and she lowered her hand. Almost instantly a salt-misted gust snatched the bonnet from her head. “Oh!”
Dr. Oliver shot her a quick grin that clearly said, “I told you so,” then he took off in pursuit of her runaway bonnet, sprinting toward the water. Watching him dash across the sand filled her with the overwhelming desire to do the same. Grasping her skirts, she lifted them to her ankles and ran after him.
The leather ankle boots she’d worn for riding sank into the soft sand, slowing her progress, but the wind whipped at her hair and gown, the sun gleamed on the azure water, and the scent of salty freshness filled her lungs, instilling her with a heady sensation of freedom unlike anything she’d ever known. A delighted laugh escaped her, then another, and she ran faster, kicking up golden grainy arcs of sand behind her.