Seemed Dante had beaten him here. The man stood silently by in a grove of tall birches, hat tipped forward, arms crossed. Rounding toward the trees, Richard dismounted next to his business partner.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
Dante did little more than grunt and nod toward the women. “Came to see what all the commotion was.”
Richard turned to the sound of their tittering and giggles. They were quite loud, their voices carrying upward on the light, hot breeze. “Have they seen you standing up here yet?”
“I doubt it. They’re too occupied with themselves.” Why was he getting such cryptic answers from Dante? What interest did he have in the women’s doings? Richard looked down the slope, watching the girls lie about in the grass at ease. He had a feeling he’d ruin their tête-à-tête once he made an appearance.
“And you’re standing here watching out for their welfare?”
Dante raised his head and stared him straight in the eye. “Something of that nature.” Dante pushed off the trunk of the tree. “Shall we interrupt their morning fun?”
“Yes, I think we should.”
Taking the horse’s reins, he walked down the sloping hill. Emma’s blonde curls bounced as she turned to face their approach. The bright smile faded from her face, but still twinkled in her eyes. He hated that he had that effect on her. As though he sapped the fun out of everything. Perhaps she was embarrassed about last night.
She had a smear of dirt across her right cheek, and her hair was littered with bits of grass. Grace’s and Abby’s appearances didn’t fare much better. But it wasn’t them who managed to catch his fancy.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Abby stood up, her hands on her hips as she glared at them. “You can’t come down here unless you do it in the same fashion we did.”
Grace snorted and brushed the grass and dirt from her knees with vigorous strokes. “Don’t bother.” She waved off the suggestion. “We should get back, anyway.”
Richard put out his hand for his wife to take. She stared at it, then looked at his expressionless face. She didn’t refuse him. Taking it, she stood quickly, wiped her dirty hands down the side of her trousers and looked at him as though daring him to say something about her current state of dress.
Her hips looked snug in the garment. He wanted to grasp them in his hands and stare at every part of her feminine body enhanced by the tight-fitting material. He could make out the press of her breasts where the shirt seemed to mold against her body. If he moved it, he wondered if he’d get a glimpse of her breasts through the dip in the front. It didn’t appear that she wore anything underneath the cambric. And just like that he was hard as stone in his trousers. It was a damnable effect his wife had on him.
Trailing his gaze up to hers, he was met with a frown. So she’d taken notice of what he’d been mesmerized by. It was not as though he could help himself, not with all her feminine attributes on display.
Looking over his shoulder, he could see Dante walking with the other women back to the manor. They weren’t waiting for them. “They’ll hardly miss us. Would you like to go for a ride?”
“You’ve only brought one horse.”
“We’ll just go down to the river. Won’t be too much of a task for Odin here.” He affectionately rubbed his hand over the horse’s neck. Odin gave an approving snort.
Without giving his wife a second chance to say no, he swung himself into the saddle, leaned forward to get a good hold of the back of her trousers, and lifted her up to sit in front of him. Modesty dictated she keep her legs to one side, but if she was bold enough to wander around in the day wearing men’s clothes, there was no reason for her to insist on sitting sidesaddle. He also wanted the sweet cheeks of her rear cushioning his cock.
“Face forward so you’re straddled over the saddle like I am.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder. He thought she’d argue, but quick as her gaze had ensnared him, she broke it and turned about as he asked. Her back bounced against his chest with the horse’s every step. She must not realize what holding her seat near his groin was doing to his anatomy. He’d be hard-pressed not to come in this position.
Attempting to distract himself, he asked, “What is it you and your sisters are trying to accomplish today?”
“Only a dare.” Her voice was a little high in pitch. Nervous, he’d guess. Or aroused by their position?
“A dare to do what?”
“Just something amongst us sisters.” Her answer was cryptic. He was going to enjoy uncovering all his wife’s secrets.
“You can’t leave me in suspense. This is two days in a row that I’ve found you in a strangely compromising position. Not that I mind.”
“I’m beginning to believe they want you to catch me doing what they deem improper activities for a lady of my standing.”
“I would never have known what you were up to if I hadn’t sought you out in your bedchamber this morning.”
“What was it you wanted?”
Her fingers stretched out, and she stroked Odin’s thick mane of hair. The horse tossed his head in appreciation of his wife’s touch, and he walked with more spring in his step. What Richard would give to have his wife caressing him like that.
Whatever question she’d asked was forgotten. Her rear rubbed over his groin with their every bounce in the seat. He was sure the minx did it on purpose.
As fast as the thought came, his body responded to her teasing. There was no way to hide the fact that she aroused him, either. Not that he wanted to hide it. She’d definitely felt the thickened length of him at her backside where she sat atop his thighs. He moved his hand to grasp her hip, massaging her there, unable to help himself from touching her.
Her breath caught—his first hint that she was aware of his current state of mind. Then her body seemed to stiffen.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered into her ear, then flicked it with his tongue for good measure. She jumped in surprise at the motion. “Relax, sweet wife. I just want to give you a little pleasure.”
Her gasp turned into a slight moan and her body seemed to liquefy and ease into his. Taking the reins in one hand, he trailed his hand around her middle and cupped her unbound breast. He thrust his pelvis into her backside a little firmer. Had she been wearing skirts, he would have been tempted to push them up, free his cock, and slide into her body right there in the saddle.
The river wasn’t more than a hundred paces off. When they arrived would she turn all prim and proper again? Or could he take her on the ground?
Pulling the shirt from the band of her trousers, he slid his hand over the bare skin of her stomach and lower down the front to feel the moist thatch of curls. He could no more stop himself than he could temper his own lust. The evidence of her desire coated his fingers. She could not hide the fact that he’d excited her. He knew she was aroused, maybe not at the fever pitch he was riding, but enough that her own cream had readied her passage for the kind of stimulation he had in mind.
All the air seemed to rush from her lungs as he dipped his hands into the plump petals of her mound. Tightening his thighs around the horse, he brought Odin to a stop. Richard dropped the reins so he could wrap his other arm around Emma. He needed to touch her bare flesh. What was this need to always be touching her? He wished he could explain the compulsion.
Hand sliding under the shirt he’d untucked, he rubbed his palm over the soft skin of her belly, the underside of her breast, then squeezed the firm mound. He bit at her earlobe, sucking the fleshy end into his mouth as he massaged her breast, rubbing his fingers over the distended nipple every now and again.
“I want to take you right here, Emma. Want you riding my cockstand in the saddle.”
His hand rotated faster over the engorged bud of her sex. Her fluids drenched his fingers. He wanted to lick the cream from them, then lower his mouth to that warm, sweet spot of her body and lap it up like a man who had long thirsted.
The cadence of her breathing
was uneven. She was so close to finding release. He felt it in her increased lubricity, in the gentle rocking of her hips, and in the thrust of her pretty titty against his hand.
His thighs must have tightened further around the barrel of the horse, for Odin sidestepped, causing Emma to pull forward on the saddle with a startled cry—a sound torn between pleasure and surprise—and dislodged his hand.
Odin whinnied his disapproval at their movements, but carried them forward at a steady gait. Richard didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t. Since her shirt was already pulled from the trousers, he raised the material high on her back, leaned forward, and nibbled the length of her spine that he could reach with his mouth and tongue.
Her hand came around to pull the shirt back in place, then she sat right on his stiff cock and crossed her arms over her breasts.
“We can’t do this here. Please, turn the horse around.”
“Let me take you down to the river. We’ll have privacy there.”
She let out a ragged breath, stalling as though she wasn’t sure how she wanted to answer him. “We should head back.”
Had he really made no headway with her last night? Or even now? He was sure he had. He closed his eyes and gathered the tethered threads of his control. They could finish this tonight.
“As my lady wills it,” he said through gritted teeth.
Richard led the horse back to the stables. His wife, cool as ever, tucked in her shirt when he handed her down to the ground and said not a word thereafter.
He didn’t touch her again after his botched attempt. Not because he was sure she’d refuse him, but because he doubted he’d stop a second time. Not when it was clear she’d enjoyed the liberties he’d taken. Later. She would be his later. He only needed to bide his time till evening arrived.
* * *
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Dante said as the door shut behind Grace.
There was a shy tilt to her head. Her fingers fidgeted with the ribbon that cinched around her waist to keep the robe from revealing what she wore beneath.
He’d been thinking of her too often since he’d arrived here. Asbury might just kill him for taking advantage of his sister-in-law. But it had been too long since he’d had the company of a woman. Would have been better for him had he found the company of a willing woman at a local tavern because he was liable to show her a rougher side of a man’s desires than she was used to, being that she was gently bred.
Problem was, he wanted Grace. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man dallied with, either. He knew that. Knew that she was the marrying kind. Told himself he should avoid her for that reason. He needed to go home once the business was sold, find a nice Italian woman who was as lusty as him, and have a large brood of children to fill his home.
Still, he wanted Grace.
“I almost didn’t come.” Her voice was husky. Wanton. Just how he liked to hear it.
He stepped forward and took her hands in his so she’d not be able to fidget anymore. “I am glad you changed your mind.” He massaged the tips of her fingers and then kissed them. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”
She did. He reached down and pulled the pink satin ribbon tied at her waist. Her robe slid open to reveal a lace negligee that was anything but lady-like. He groaned at what was revealed and slid his hand around her satin-covered waist to the small of her back so he could pull her closer. She rolled her shoulders till the robe slid from the high perch. It caught at her elbows since her hands were currently occupied kneading into his scalp and neck.
“I want your lips on me,” she pleaded, a note of desperation tainting her voice. She was a wanton, simply put. There was nothing that could please him more. She’d make a perfect lusty wife.
What else was a man to do but act on instinct alone with a willing woman in his arms?
Leaning down, he caressed the seam of her mouth with his tongue. She opened almost immediately to his seeking touch. Their tongues tangled together, teeth nipped at lips, and groans filled with need replaced the silence in his room. He couldn’t wait to get her hot body wrapped around his as he pumped into her. He’d wanted her the moment he’d seen the lush beauty rubbing at the back of her neck outside his assigned chamber. He’d wanted to take her up against the wall that very day.
The few pins that had held her dark hair back had long since tumbled to the floor. Satiny waves fell forward over her shoulder and ran near to the middle of her back. He broke away from the kiss. Watching her lust-hazed eyes and flushed cheeks, he stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. She seemed frozen to the spot as she gazed upon him.
“Drop your robe.”
It slid off her body with a soft swish. Lace lined the front of the peach-colored negligee; he could see her big breasts right through it, the berry-ripened nipples hard and ready for his mouth to suckle.
Tiny straps of satin wrapped around her shoulders to hold up the delicate material of her nightwear. He pushed them off each shoulder and reveled as the satiny material slipped down her body. He took his time not to tear it as he slid it over her breasts. It caught and pooled at her hips. Dante didn’t care. He’d hike the flimsy material over her head after he had a taste of her.
Her breasts were firm, round, and even larger than he’d thought. Pressing both hands to them, he tested their weight, and brought his mouth down to one of the dark red nipples. He sucked it into his mouth deeply, then released it with a pop. He gave the other breast the same attention. She arched toward him in complete supplication.
He nodded in the direction of the bed. “Sit,” he ordered.
She walked over, not bothering to cover her charms, and stood by his high bed. He made quick work of his trousers and stood for her inspection. Sucking in her bottom lip, she hummed her approval. He was not a small man in any sense of the word. By her expression alone, he knew she approved of what she saw.
As he approached, she put her delicate hands out to his chest and stopped him. “I have nothing to prevent a child. Will you be able to pull out?”
She visibly swallowed with the question. Was she embarrassed to ask such a thing? He was not the type of man to leave bastards from one end of the world to the other. Though any baby put in her womb would not be made a bastard, he decided. When he made up his mind, he made it up quickly.
“You are safe with me,” he promised. Tonight he’d pull out. After tonight … he’d worry about that when they arrived there.
She gave a nod and sat on the edge of his bed. He thought she’d lie back; instead she set her knees apart, planted her feet on the protruding platform of the bed, and pulled him into the vee of her body. “Then I shall trust you on your word. Now kiss me again and fill my body with that glorious instrument of pleasure.”
No sense dallying at that point. Testing her with his fingers, he spread her sheath’s wetness and then plunged himself into her more-than-splendid core.
* * *
Closing the door to her painting room, Emma leaned against the molding for a moment. Her breathing was rough, coming at an excited pitch. Should she greet her husband in her room as she normally did? She had this strange desire to meet him in his room or maybe even surprise him somewhere else in the house. How would she convince him to stay the whole evening with her?
Should she touch him as he touched her? Could she be so bold? Yes, she wanted to be and would be that daring.
What he’d done to her this afternoon had made her crave his touch for the remainder of the day. She’d been so close to peaking, to exploding under his determined touch. Then the horse had shifted under them, and she’d been embarrassed about what she’d done with her husband out in the open. Tonight, she vowed, would be different. There would be no holding back.
She rang for fresh water once in her chamber. It wouldn’t do to greet her husband smelling of turpentine and oil paint.
Her maid was helping her tie the night rail at her back when her husband entered her bedchamber. She raised a brow at his discourteous entry. He was
early. Did he miss her as she missed him?
“Leave us, Francine.”
Emma didn’t watch the maid leave. Her gaze was drawn to her husband’s naked torso. She wanted to trace every line of muscle clearly defined there. He wore nothing more than his trousers, the bulge of his hardened member evident beneath. Had he remained in a state of need all afternoon just as she had? She looked him over leisurely, absorbing the wholly masculine sight he presented.
She wanted to touch him. To feel the bulge of his cock in her hands.
She focused on stilling her nervous, shaking hands. Swallowing hard, she took a step toward him. He wore a lopsided grin that said he knew what effect he had on her.
“Shall we stand here all night, sweetling?”
She snapped out of her daze and shook her head. “About this afternoon…” Darn it, she wasn’t planning to bring that up.
“Yes, this afternoon was simply a taste for what will happen this evening.” He walked toward her, pinched her chin between his finger and thumb. He raised one brow and asked, “Shall I do it again?”
Her breath caught. The stark determination to seduce her as he had earlier was clear in his coffee-colored eyes. It made her legs turn to jelly. She rested her hands upon his chest for balance, for her legs weren’t going to hold her up much longer. He took that as an invitation to sweep her off her feet and carry her to the bed.
There were too many candles glowing tonight. Her room was blazing with light. For some reason, that made her more nervous for what she planned.
“The candles—”
“Stay lit. I will see every part of you tonight.”
She swallowed any other words of objection and turned her head away as he removed his trousers. Clutching the soft quilt beneath her fists, she focused on his half grin and waited for him to join her on the bed.
The Seduction of His Wife Page 15
