But the mare was not expected to deliver for another six weeks. In that time, if the Hawkesmoor had his way, she and her stud would be installed at Hawkesmoor Manor.
But that wasn't going to happen. The Hawkesmoor was rather different from what she'd expected; indeed, she enjoyed his company and more than enjoyed his bed, but that changed nothing. She was going to be an independent horse breeder with a line of racehorses that would be the envy of the racing world. She was going to be a free woman, living under no man's thumb. She had been used and dominated by Ravenspeare men all her life, and she was not going to exchange her brothers' dominion for a husband's.
She would need to move soon, before the mare delivered. She couldn't run her business for much longer from Ravenspeare Castle. Ranulf was already suspicious and, from what Edgar had told her, the disappearance of the colt had only increased his suspicions.
She was going to leave Ravenspeare Castle with her horses before the wedding month was up. She would take them to Holland and she would set up her stud there. And if Simon tracked her down, then she would offer him an annulment. He could keep her dowry, she'd have no need of it by then.
Simon lay still, breathing deeply, aware of every twitch in the slender body beside him. He knew she was awake, her mind racing. It was the same almost every night when she awoke from the light doze of physical fulfillment. She slept so little and yet she never seemed to be tired. She had boundless, enviable energy. An energy she seemed to draw from the air. But what was she thinking through the long hours of the night?
With a sudden sigh, Ariel slid out of bed. Simon watched through half-closed eyes as she padded barefoot to the window. The dogs lifted their heads from their paws for a moment, then dropped them heavily back again. "It'll soon be dawn," she said.
"Did you sleep as fitfully when you slept alone?" He sat up, not particularly surprised that she had guessed he was awake.
"I'm a night person. I like to move around at night."
"But you don't sleep in the day."
"I take a nap sometimes. Outdoors, usually."
He linked his hands behind his head. "Do you realize what an eccentric you are, Ariel?"
She turned in surprise. "Eccentric?"
"Very eccentric," he affirmed on a note of amusement Her naked body was a white outline against the dark window at her back. "What is it that you want to be doing at this god-awful hour?"
"I don't know." She stretched, rising on tiptoe, her breasts lifting against her taut rib cage, her stomach hollowed above the rich golden triangle at the apex of her thighs.
"I could offer a suggestion."
"Could you?" The restlessness remained in her voice, but it now had an underlying throb of interest. She ran her hands through the thick honeyed mass of her hair, tossed it back over her shoulders.
"Come here."
Ariel moved back to the bed slowly, placing each foot carefully on the floor, curling her toes against the polished wood, lifting her instep, feeling the stretch. Her blood was suddenly speeding through her veins. She stood at the bed beside him.
"Come closer." He slipped a hand around to her bottom and drew her a step forward until her knees were pressing against the bed frame. "Put your hands behind your back."
Ariel obeyed, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her belly. She clasped her hands tightly behind her.
Simon ran a hand over her breasts and belly, placed his flat palm over the curly bush at its base, fingering the soft mound beneath. Ariel quivered but kept her hands together in the small of her back. "Part your legs."
She did so, her eyes closing on a wash of pleasure as he opened her delicately and she felt his fingers slide inside her, while his thumb played upon the hardening, swelling nub of pleasure. His other hand stroked over her bottom, and her thighs clenched involuntarily as the spiral coiled in the pit of her belly. Holding her between his hands, he bent and kissed her belly, his tongue flickering over the dampening skin, darting into her navel, flicking at the sharp points of her hipbones.
Ariel shuddered, moistened her dry lips. Her breath came fast and shallow, her throat was hot and tight. Her hands were now clenched so tightly that her fingers were numb.
How did he know how to do this to her? How could he read her body so exactly that he knew when to still the movement of his fingers deep inside her, to cease all his caresses so that she hung in an agony of expectation and the coil built now under its own momentum, built and built so that her belly was as tight as a drum and she thought she would split asunder? And how did he know then that the merest flicker of the fingers still deep within her would hurl her into a moment of glorious oblivion when the coil sprung loose and exquisite joy flooded every cell and pore of her body?
But he did know. Weak and formless, she fell forward onto the bed, across his thighs. Simon, smiling, stroked down her back, his fingers damp from her body. After a minute he slipped his hands beneath her, turning her over as he shifted her up against his chest.
"Was I hurting your knee?" she mumbled feebly.
"I was just taking precautions." He caressed her hair, running his fingers through the thick fragrant strands flopping across his chest. "Still feel restless?"
She shook her head against his shoulder. "No. Sleepy."
He lifted her off his lap onto the bed beside him. "Sleep then." He slid down the pillows himself and pushed an arm beneath her head. "I wouldn't mind a peaceful hour myself, as it happens."
"But you didn't… I mean, can you sleep without-" "Yes," he said firmly. "You may return the favor a little later."
Ariel kissed the hollow of his shoulder. "That's very noble of you, my lord."
"My pleasure." He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still smiling to himself.
He awoke to find the smile still curving his mouth. It seemed to be left over from his dream, together with a fuzzy sensation of pleasure. Then he came awake fully and the sensation was as clear and joyous as the daybreak beyond the window.
Ariel still lay beside him, but he had her feet at his shoulder instead of her head, which was hidden beneath the quilts. Lazily he reached down and ran his thumb hard from the nape of her neck along the knobbly line of her spine to her tailbone. Her back rippled under the firm caress.
She raised her head, but her hands continued the work of her mouth. He felt her head heavy against his thigh as her fingers rubbed and stroked. "I was returning the favor." Her voice was muffled by the thick covers, but he could hear her tone of drowsy, languid pleasure.
"May I suggest a variation on the theme?" he murmured.
"Like what?" Her head was resting now on his belly, and her breath whispered across his skin. Her tongue ran over the tip of his member in a delicious butterfly caress.
"Like this." He moved her legs astride his chest, lifted her hips and drew her backward so that he could match her dewy caresses with his own.
"Oh," murmured Ariel on a note of pleased surprise. And then again, "Oh."
It was a bitterly cold morning, the hoarfrost still thick on the grass, but the clouds were high in a pale blue sky and the sun, although weak, was definitely in evidence. A thin crust of ice had formed over the river, and a few disconsolate mallards paddled among the rushes. A blue heron stood on a decomposing tree stump in the mud of the far riverbank and, as the hawking party drew up opposite, took off with a coarse guttural cry, its neck folded as it swept away from the intruders.
The peregrine on Simon's wrist quivered at the sound, flexing his cruel claws against the thick falconer's glove. The Ravenspeare mews couldn't supply birds for the entire wedding party, so they were a small group-the lords of Ravenspeare and several of their closest friends, Oliver Becket among them; Ariel and the Hawkesmoor cadre; a dozen Fenlander guests who had brought their own falcons to the wedding celebrations.