He put the shovel aside and tossed the worn leather gloves into the open chest by the door. “I rather enjoy it.”
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Hard work is good for the soul.”
“Your servants must be scandalised.”
“When I am on my estate, I play the almighty earl to the hilt. But I own a hunting box in Scotland. Once or twice a year, I go up there and seclude myself for a fortnight at a time. It’s the only place where I can be truly alone. I don’t even take my valet.”
His comment stunned her into silence. She could imagine no other gentleman of her acquaintance hungering for such hard-won solitude. Though she certainly understood herself how precious solitude could be.
He returned to the horses and began to brush Sally’s coat, his movements patient and methodical, crooning gently to the mare. She would have never guessed at this side to him.
“What about feminine companionship?” She blurted out the question before she thought better of it. “Surely your fancy pieces don’t enjoy roughing it.”
“Why, my darling, what language!” His deep laughter echoed in the stable. “Fancy pieces, indeed.”
“Then your trollops, if you prefer that,” she added in tart tones.
He turned and grinned at her “I have never taken a woman there. Being alone means being alone. Period.”
As he turned and became once more engrossed in the horses, the import settled on her slowly. No other woman had known him like this. Warmth blossomed in her chest. Their shared solitude felt precious in this moment. But she shouldn’t assume he felt the same way. Gentlemen didn’t like their private time intruded on. She knew that. A chill chased the pleasant sensation away.
“I suppose it must be rather tiresome having a female along now.” Immediately, she hated herself. How weak of her to ask. What could he say? Certainly he wouldn’t admit it if it were the truth.
“Nan, I invited you here; went to great lengths to arrange the whole matter.”
“What choice had you? I practically begged you to help me.”
“My darling, I don’t have one charitable bone in my body.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you know damned well why you’re here.” He turned back to her and pointed near the door. “Love, can you bring me that sack of oats?”
Without thought, she bent and picked up the sack. It was less than halfway full and easy to carry. She took it to him. As she approached, he gave her such a first-rate, blindingly charming smile that she didn’t even know where she was. Until Jasper nickered. Every muscle froze and her throat went as dry as parchment. Tingles raced over her scalp and the sack dropped from her hand.
His arms were around her in a flash. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. You’re perfectly safe.”
“I-I can’t…I can’t!” She clung to his broad shoulders, unable to get enough air. Eerie tingling crawled over her scalp and her stomach churned warningly. Panicked, she slipped her hands to his shoulders and gave a firm push. “I have to go outside.”
“Just breathe slower, love.” He held her tight and caressed her back.
She breathed deeply and slowly, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling comforted even more by the solid reality of his hard body. Several moments passed and the terrifying sensations eased off. Her heart and breathing resumed some normalcy. “I suppose you think I am the veriest ninny.”
“On the contrary, I think you’re being very brave.”
“Now you’re patronising me.”
“It takes time to get over something like this. And it takes courage to face up to the need to address the issue.”
She barely dared breathe. She wanted him to continue speaking and to tell her all he knew.
“In the dragoons, I saw men older than you get themselves into this same kind of state.”
“Did you? But why did they become afraid when others—like you—didn’t?”
He laughed softly. “I don’t have enough sense to become afraid.”
Disappointment crashed over her. “You’re making sport of me.”
She tried to push away from him but he held her firm. “No, I am not making sport of you.”
He pulled her closer. As close as they could possibly get whilst fully dressed. Vital strength radiated from him, warmth that melted into her very bones. It was intoxicating. Almost of its own accord, her head dropped to lie upon his shoulder. The wool of his jacket prickled her cheek. The sound of his breathing and her heartbeat in her ears filled the moments as he methodically caressed her back.
“And did you comfort them like this?” She attempted a teasing tone.
“Hmm?” His voice rumbled through his chest.
“Those men, the ones who became afraid like me. Did you comfort them like this?”
He moved his hand up and stroked her hair. “No, we threatened them with the sharp end of a bayonet and told them to man up.”
Something about his irreverent, dry tone made her think he wasn’t teasing. She couldn’t suppress a shiver.
“Did that work?”
“Not a bit, my love. Had to figure something else out.”
“What?”
“Something somewhere between this here and threatening them with death.” He nipped at her earlobe.
She gasped at the sharp pain. He licked her lobe, hot, wetness that soothed the sting and tickled her insides with delightful thrills.
She laughed weakly.
“You’re a good girl, Nan.”
Again, that galling sensation of warmth entered her heart. Like she’d been waiting all along for some big, strong, fierce-looking man to come along, pat her on the head and tell her she was a good girl. God, how pathetic. However, her indignation seemed to change nothing. She soaked his praise up like a stray kitten with a bowl of warm milk.
He kissed her cheek, a slow, sensual brushing of his lips. “Let me finish feeding the horses.”
He released her and walked back to the fallen bag. His rustic clothes, the plain woollen coat and thigh-hugging nankeen breeches tucked into plain black boots, accentuated his tall, muscular frame. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him as he bent to pick up the bag.
Sexual desire fuelled her energy and she felt stronger than ever. She wanted to show him that strength. The strength he had given her. She could push herself a bit further. “I could do that,” she said. “I could put the food in.”
He turned. His bright blue eyes lingered upon her, so tender and warm that she caught her breath.
All her feelings—gratitude, lustiness and joy in this moment—seemed to squeeze her chest with painful intensity. “Let me do it…please.”
He shook his head. “Not today. For now it is enough that you were willing to come close to the horses.”
“But I want to—I want to prove myself.”
“And so you shall, but not today.”
He didn’t believe she was strong enough. He didn’t believe she could do it. The energy inside her churned in her blood, demanding a release. She balled her fists at her sides and pressed her lips together.
“It chafes, I know, allowing someone else to make decisions.”
At his understanding tone, sudden tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back ruthlessly.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s just that so much time has passed and I am no better. Nothing changes.”
“Nan, you’re standing in the middle of a stable, not six feet from two full grown horses. Could you have done this a week ago?”
“No.” She inhaled deeply against the burn in her chest. “I daresay I could not have even come near the stable door then.”
“Then that’s progress and I won’t have you negating it.” He left her then and returned to the horses. Within moments, he was back with her. “Now we have the matter of your reward.”
“My reward?” she asked dumbly.
“What did I promise you, if you could come into
the stables and offer to help me?”
“You didn’t promise any—” Her voice broke off at the memory. Her face went up in flames. “But you were only teasing me.”
“On your knees, Anne,” he said in a firm tone.
“Pardon me?”
“It’s how it is done.”
“How what is done?”
“Sucking a cock.”
Chapter Twelve
Anne’s knees went rubbery.
“Here?” She glanced down at the straw-strewn floor and her every sensibility was offended. However, her nipples pulled tight and wetness began to slick her inner folds. “Did I not warn you about what can happen to a wench who wanders into the stables?” Jon asked.
She laughed shakily. “But the lord ordered me in here. I had no choice.”
He tsked at her. “Nan, there are always choices. A wise wench would have found some way to call off or get someone else to cover for her.” He undid the first button on her bodice.
“Jon, what if someone comes along?”
He had her dress open and fondled her breasts, handling them carelessly, caressing her aching nipples then pinching them roughly.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
He brought his lips close to her ear. “There’s no one here but you and me and our feelings.”
She was trembling now and had gone wobbly on her pins.
He grasped her by the shoulders. “You had better kneel down before you fall over.”
He had unpinned her hair and it fell in a cascade over her shoulders.
After so many nights in his bed, she didn’t even try to deny her desire. Nor her enjoyment of his peculiar and perhaps perverse sexual tastes. But it still made her feel unbearably exposed to react so strongly to him. Moreover, she’d learnt there was no point to be gained in letting him have his way too easily. Especially when he was in a playful mood. Worst of all, his refusal to allow her to help stung.
She lifted her chin and stared at him boldly. “You actually think I am going to fall onto my knees like some Covent Garden whore and take that…that thing into my mouth?”
“No, I don’t think you’re going to do it like a Covent Garden whore would. For one thing, you’ve absolutely no experience at it.”
“So in other words, I won’t even rate with the whores?”
A grin split his face, giving his fierce features an almost boyish cast that she had never before seen on him. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it like that, Nan.” He cupped her face. “What a mouth you are developing. I’ll have to see what I can do about sweetening it up.”
He put his lips on hers, gentle, warm pressure moving sensually over her for long moments. She swayed into him and he lifted his head. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a slight push. Her heartbeat sped, for that was always his signal that he was done with playing. He expected her to either give a straightforward refusal or kneel.
She dropped to her knees in the straw, no longer aware of anything else but him. He unfastened his nankeen breeches, then he was holding his cock. From this angle, it looked huge. Maybe a little intimidating. She could never get all of that into her mouth.
“Just kiss it first.”
She put her lips to the head. It was like hot, smooth silk stretched over iron. Her heart beat faster at the sensation.
He threaded his hand into her hair, sliding his fingers along her scalp. “Now use your tongue. All around it, Nan.”
She complied, running her tongue around the velvety crown. Fluid leaked from him, warm and salty. She licked away and it only seemed to increase the amount that flowed. Goodness, of all the things he’d cajoled her into, this was surely the wickedest.
“Open wide and take me as deep as is comfortable.”
She took him into her mouth. His hand gripped her hair more tightly and he released his breath in a hiss. She glanced up at him, uncertain.
He nodded.
Dear God. He tasted divine. She wanted to consume him whole. She eagerly took him deeper yet, trying to take the all of him. His crown reached the back of her tongue, and as he leaked profusely, the hot fluid rushed into her throat. The urge to gag arose. She tried to fight it back but then a small retch overtook her.
He gripped her shoulder and pulled out, caressing her head as she shuddered and lurched a moment.
“Steady now. Go slower. I need to know how much you can comfortably take.” He touched her cheek. “Open wider and relax; let yourself become accustomed to it. If you feel yourself gag again, try to swallow.”
It was impossible to relax with her blood pounding through her, singing in her ears. She wanted so desperately to please him. But as she wrapped her lips about his thick, throbbing length she sensed she wasn’t getting it quite right. She had only half his cock in her mouth.
Yet his hand remained tight on her hair and his breathing was more like a rhythmic grunting. She realised he was trembling almost as hard as she was. His balls drew tight to his body and his stomach was taut. She knew his body now. Knew he was about to come.
A sudden panic hit her. He might come in her mouth. Oh God, she hadn’t ever imagined such a thing!
He pressed on her shoulders, withdrew, then wrapped his hand tightly about the base of his cock and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes and groaned, panting hard as he released his hand.
He had stopped himself from coming. She hadn’t realised a man could. But why had he done so? She had wanted to please him. Her heart had beat for nothing else during those moments he’d been in her mouth. Anxiety pulsed through her blood.
She glanced up at his face. “I did it wrong, didn’t I?”
His eyes shone luminescent as a summer sky as he smiled and cupped her face. “You did fine.”
Self-awareness returned. She was in a stable, kneeling in stale straw. Servicing a gentleman with her own spit oozing down her chin. And thoroughly enjoying every moment. She brought her arm up and wiped her face with her sleeve.
Jon stared down at Anne, admiring the full, lush breasts that fairly exploded out of the unbuttoned dress. Glassy sapphire eyes started back at him, full of confusion. Damn it, he was confused too. He’d been with so many skilled women. And of course this here had been exactly as he anticipated. She’d been inexperienced, frustratingly clumsy in her actions. But God, she’d also been perfectly submissive. Maddeningly sensual in her enjoyment whilst sucking his cock. However, it hadn’t been enough.
She was giving only her body, her physical service, her climax at his command. And he wanted…what?
Something deeper than mere physical submission. Total capitulation of her carefully guarded self. To be allowed into that place she shared only with dead philosophers. He shouldn’t touch her now. He should take some time to sort this all through. To cool his head. However, his overwrought passions demanded release.
“Lie back.” He touched her shoulders.
She didn’t resist. She fell back upon the straw covered floor, her midnight black hair fanning out around her head, her sloe eyes huge and burning with hunger.
He hooked his hand into her hem and shoved her muslin skirt up to her waist. Then he all but fell on her.
He thrust deep. Sweet Christ, it was gratifying how drenched her cunt was. And snug as a glove. But it wasn’t enough. He lifted her buttocks up and drove himself in and out of her with a violent passion. She lifted her hips to meet his every downward stroke and clung to him with arms and legs wrapped tightly about his body.
He stopped fucking her. “Who owns you, Nan?”
She looked up at him with shocked, passion-glazed eyes.
“Tell me, Nan, or I shall stop.”
Her eyes closed. “You do, only you.”
He withdrew from her and her whimpers sounded in his ear as he rolled her over onto her hands and knees. His hand made sharp, slapping contact with her buttocks several times, the sound an echoing crack in the stable. She arched upwards and he couldn’t bear the sight of that broad, plump arse, already rosy pink fr
om his hand. He thrust into her and took her fast and furiously, brushing the hair off her neck and nipping at her nape. Their simultaneous climaxes were explosive, like nothing he’d ever experienced. He almost didn’t pull out in time.
And yet, emotionally, he remained so deep inside her that he was uncertain of his moorings. It wasn’t a very comfortable place to be.
* * * *
At sunset, Anne ate the hare placed before her with no complaints, eyeing Jon and wondering what was on his mind. Since this morning, after they’d left the stable, he’d been unfailingly polite—too polite in fact. He was distant.
She could think only that she’d disappointed him.
Of course he would be kind. For all his perverse erotic tastes, he was at heart a gentleman. But she had known from the start that she would disappoint him. She just had hoped it wouldn’t come this soon. They had three whole weeks to go. Only now could she admit how much she’d been looking forward to that time with him.
What would happen now? Would he find some excuse to cut their time here short?
She tried to think how it had come to this. What deficiency had she shown too much? This man had lived in harsh army situations, faced and survived battle. She couldn’t even face her own pampered life with any degree of adequacy.
“What’s wrong?” His deep voice startled her from her thoughts.
“I could not even operate a weapon, much less kill my own dinner.”
He stared at her as if she’d grown horns. “Of course you can’t. You’re a lady, born and bred.”
“Well, it makes me rather pathetic, does it not?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would.”
His face lit with interest. “You would like to learn?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” she said quickly, sorry she’d even said anything.
“Why not? I could teach you.”
She turned her attention back to the meat. She lifted her fork and placed a piece in her mouth, trying not to grimace at the detested taste. Eating gave her something to focus on other than her dismal fears and soon the lot was gone.
“Anne, do you really want to learn to hunt? To fish?”
A Measured Risk Page 15
