Chapter 16
"I'm going riding — I thought I'd go to that place on the river we used to go to years ago."
Looking up from a financial report, Luc stared at the vision filling his study doorway. Clad in her pale green riding habit, Amelia smiled, then glanced down as she fiddled, as usual, with her gloves. Beneath her tight-fitting jacket, a froth of gauzy blouse showed, tantalizing in its transparency. Late-afternoon sun washed through the windows, bathing her in golden light, emphasizing the temptress role he was almost certain she was playing.
Gloves secured, she looked up, smiled again. "I'll be back in time for dinner." She started to turn away.
"Wait." He was rising before he'd truly considered, but didn't stop. "I'll come with you."
She'd turned back; now she raised her brows. "Are you sure…?" She glanced at the papers he'd dropped on the desk, then met his gaze as he joined her. "I didn't intend to disturb you."
Looking into her eyes, he couldn't tell whether she was lying. Biting back the words: then you shouldn't have come within my sight, he gestured impassively on. "I could do with a ride."
Her eyes widened; her lips curved deliciously. "I see." Serenely, she turned and started down the corridor. "Being out in the fresh air will be pleasant."
He had no idea which way she intended that; gritting his teeth, he strode after her.
She'd already called for her mount; his hunter was quickly bridled and saddled, then they were away, galloping over his fields, heading south to the river. He knew the spot she was looking for; he led her straight there, to where a loop in the river left a finger of his land surrounded on three sides by water. Trees screened the base of the promontory; they left the horses there. Beyond the trees, the tip of the promontory was a secluded place, cushioned in lush grass, partially shaded by the reaching branches of the trees.
As children, this had been their spot for lazing, for paddling, for passing the days in idle talk, or in dreaming. They had occasionally been here in a large group, or had visited alone or with others, but they'd never come together, just the two of them, to this realm of childhood peace.
Ducking under a branch, he led the way, Amelia's hand in his; as they walked out into the thick grass, he could almost hear the high-pitched voices, the laughter, the whispers, the soft murmur of the water a constant counterpoint. He stopped in the center of the grassy area, and drew in a deep breath. It brought with it the scents of summer, of sun on leaves, of grass crushed beneath their feet.
"It's just like it always was." Amelia slipped her hand from his and sank down on the grass, lush, green, and, courtesy of the warm day, dry. She looked up, met Luc's eyes, smiled. "It was always so peaceful here."
Arranging her skirts, she looked around, then hugged her knees, set her chin upon them, and fixed her gaze on the gently swirling water.
After a moment, Luc sat beside her. He stretched out, long legs toward the water, booted ankles crossed. Leaning back on one elbow, he, too, considered the river.
It was a constant, something that had been here over the generations, over the centuries — something that tied them to this land, to its past, yet whispered of its future.
She let the feeling sink to her bones, let the warmth in the air, the music of the river and the shifting leaves soothe and reassure. Confirm.
Eventually, she looked at Luc, waited until he met her gaze, then, smiling lightly, raised a brow. "Well — can I call the pup Galahad?"
His midnight blue eyes darkened; she knew why, knew what he was recalling. The events of the past night when she'd paid the price he'd asked — and his bribe, too. This close, she could feel the sensual power that was his to wield, could sense, too, the rise of that other emotion, the one she sought to evoke, to provoke, to draw again and again into their encounters, until he recognized it and acknowledged it, too.
The former was the tension infusing his long limbs, hardening his muscles, sharpening the angles of his face. The other was more ephemeral, a distilled force, the very essence of power and compulsion. She could see both in his eyes as they held hers. "It's warm," he said. "Open your jacket." Such simple words; they sent desire flooding through her. His gaze held hers; his tone — deep, quiet, controlled — was one she recognized. She now knew to obey him to the letter, that that was how the game was played. Assuming she wished to play…
Her eyes locked with his, she uncurled her arms, sat up, and unhurriedly undid the buttons closing her light jacket. He hadn't said to take it off, so she didn't, perfectly willing to follow his experienced lead. As her hands lowered, so did his gaze. "Face me and tuck the halves back." She swung to him and did as he asked, so he had an uninterrupted view of what she wore beneath the jacket. Her blouse was of fine gauze, essentially transparent. She'd omitted to wear a chemise.
Luc's mouth went dry as he noted that last. His hand was reaching for her before he'd even thought. Gaze fixed, with his fingertips, he traced, then caressed, then closed his fingers about one pert peak. He took his time examining her, a sultan assessing a slave. Knowing she was naked under her skirts, knowing she'd be heating, softening, her body preparing to receive his.
When his hand was shaking with the effort of holding to his heavily restrained script, he let his gaze rise, to her throat, to where her skin glowed, lightly flushed. Lifting his gaze to her jaw, he saw the two ringlets she'd taken to letting loose bobbing by her ear.
He reached for them, wound them about one finger, then drew her evenly, steadily, toward him. Splaying one hand on his chest, the other curving about his shoulder, she met his gaze briefly, her eyes wide, pupils enlarged, circled by sapphire blue, then her lids fell and she let him pull her close, let him take her mouth.
Ravage it — he made not the slightest effort to hide the hunger eating him from inside out.
The hunger she'd teased and fed and incited. The hunger he was perfectly certain she'd seen in his eyes.
He kissed her as if she was indeed his slave; she met him, drew him in, urged him on. Hand curved about her jaw, he held her steady as he plundered, commanded, demanded the surrender she was so very ready to give.
His hand returned to her breast, his touch hard, driven. He kneaded, and she moaned. He found her nipple and tugged, tweaked, until her spine arched, her breath strangled, caught.
He lay back, grasped her hips and lifted her astride his thighs. Her hands started to slide down his chest.
"No. Sit still." If she touched him… he seriously doubted he'd remain in control, and he wasn't sure either of them could yet deal with that.
She obeyed, albeit reluctantly. The irony that this was one of the few areas in which he could count on her obedience hadn't escaped him; how long that would last he didn't like to think.
Pushing back the folds of her voluminous skirt, he quickly undid the buttons at his waistband, laid open the flap of his breeches, released his throbbing erection. On his chest, her fingers curled, but she didn't move.
"Gather the front of your skirt."
She blinked, glanced at his face, then quickly complied shifting on her knees to free the folds, lifting them.
As soon as there was no longer any fabric between them he slipped his hands beneath her skirts, gripped her naked hips, lifted her, then drew her ruthlessly down.
Impaled her upon him, sheathed his length in her very willing body.
She gasped, eyes wide; she'd expected him to touch her not to simply take her. Fill her.
Luc felt the now-familiar bliss roll through him as she closed, hotter than summer heat, about him. Something in him eased, even while desire's tension increased.
He'd had her like this, above him, last night, while she'd paid the.price for her teasing. The memory flared in her eyes as they met his; the vivid sensual recollection of how he'd had her ride him to oblivion — of how long he'd kept her there, trapped on the cusp of ecstasy while he'd sated his senses, his desires, with her, in her, drawing out the moment to a cataclysmic climax that had left them both shattered.