“I’m not trying to ‘get away’ with anything.”
Nodding, he led the way back to the group. “Keep telling yourself that, darling. But keep in mind that in some rare circles I’m considered rather bright, and exceptionally desirable. And I have eyes that see the same things you do. Even more, perhaps.”
Her heart had begun pounding again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Zachary. So please—”
“Shh,” he repeated in a soft drawl. “Convince yourself; not me.”
He released her before she could conjure a response and went to talk for a moment with her father. Caroline scowled after him. Oh, he might think he was intelligent and perceptive, but he had no idea what she was thinking. On the other hand, she knew exactly what he wanted, because he kept telling her.
Would it be so terrible to indulge herself one more time with Zachary Griffin before she left for her new life? As she took in Anne grasping his sleeve and audibly admiring his skill at negotiating herd prices, she knew the answer. It would be a very, very, very bad idea.
Chapter 19
At four and twenty, with numerous female admirers and more than a handful of satisfied former lovers in his past, Zachary believed he didn’t have much—if anything—to learn from a chit. Caroline Witfeld, however, seemed determined to prove him wrong.
When he’d decided on joining the army, it had seemed ridiculous even to contemplate a marriage. He knew war widows, and he didn’t intend to leave one of his own behind. And in truth, it hadn’t been that difficult a choice. Most females seemed so intent on being pleasant and proper and whatever else they could think of in an attempt to impress a Griffin male that he found most of them dull.
“What do you think it is, Lord Zachary?” Violet asked from beside him.
He shook himself, focusing his gaze again on Aunt Tremaine as she blew out her cheeks and stretched out her arms. “I think I’m glad that I’m not on my aunt’s team,” he returned, chuckling.
“Wait until you have to enact a charade,” Aunt Tremaine said, eating a pretend leg of something and tossing it over her shoulder. “I’ve seen some of your attempts, if you’ll recall.”
Seated opposite him, Caroline was falling over her sister Joanna’s shoulder with the force of her laughter. She didn’t laugh often; more frequently she gave that infectious, absurdly delicate snort, a short laugh, or a chuckle, before she sobered again, as though she was afraid that if she was anything but serious, she would lose sight of, and grip on, her goals.
She was unlike anyone he’d ever met, and she was certainly the first female to think herself better than he. As far as finding her passion and pursuing it, she’d definitely seen the light well before he had. And even when he’d thought he had finally made his choice, it had been her passion and insight that had prompted him to look beyond the obvious and beyond himself. With the army he might have found his glory and death on the battlefield, but in cattle breeding, though slower paced and infinitely less glorious, he could improve more lives than his own.
Hm. In return he’d taught Caroline one lesson, but she did have more to learn. And considering the favor she’d done in aiming him in a better direction, he looked forward to delivering a little more instruction.
And he didn’t consider her dull. Not in the slightest. When he looked at her, it dawned on him that more than his choice of career had changed. She had changed him. Just how much, he was still discovering, but it wasn’t something he would recover from. It wasn’t anything he wanted to recover from.
He liked the way Edmund listened to his plans, weighed them, and found them sound. He liked the way the local landowners he’d roped into participating came to him with questions and that he had answers for them. The excitement of his new path had begun to deepen into a quiet satisfaction he’d never felt before. He didn’t intend to give it up. But he did know whom to thank for opening his eyes.
Caroline met his gaze for a heartbeat, then looked away again. No, he could never see her as dull. Not as a woman, an artist, or a…wife.
Christ. Where had that come from? It seemed a huge leap, to move from not seeking death and glory to the idea of marriage. He stood.
“Zachary?” Edmund asked, shifting in his own chair.
“Apologies,” he said abruptly, panic and exhilaration jolting into his chest. “I’ve a headache. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just need a breath of air.”
He dodged Barling the butler and made it out the front door without incident. With a full moon, the path toward the pond and the near cattle pasture shone violet and gray, and he headed in that direction.
As he walked, he tried to quiet the bashing-about of his thoughts. Just because he could consider marriage didn’t mean he’d actually decided to marry. And simply because he liked and admired Caroline didn’t mean he wanted to marry her. Even if he did, she didn’t want to marry him. No, she was going to Vienna, likely within the week.
He leaned against the wood railing that marked the edge of the pasture. Ridiculous. Of course he didn’t want to get married. It was only that thanks to Caroline and her father he’d abruptly seen his future and his life more clearly than ever before. That had led to changes—changes that he thus far found amazingly interesting and challenging. Changes led to thoughts about more changes, and aside from changing careers the largest change he could make would be to move from bachelor to married man. So of course the thought had occurred to him. That didn’t mean he had to do anything about it.
Dimidius wandered up, undoubtedly looking for a carrot or an apple. Absently Zachary scratched behind her ear. How odd, that he’d found his future in a cow. A pretty cow, but a cow nonetheless.
“Am I interrupting?” Caroline said from behind him.
Just barely managing not to jump, Zachary continued scratching Dimidius. “The conversation was a little one-sided,” he conceded. “How did you escape charades?”
“I guessed that your aunt was Henry the Eighth and then went to fetch a shawl,” she returned.
“Ah, old Henry. I thought she was enacting my brother Charlemagne.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
She wasn’t the only one. “About what?” he asked.
“About how I should be hearing from Monsieur Tannberg in five days.”
And then she’d be gone, without a backward glance. “That’s right. Do you need my help packing?”
“No.”
“Then—”
Her hands slid up his shoulder blades. “You’ve made some statements over the past few days,” she said, her palms shifting to his chest as he turned around, “and I was wondering if they were just talk.”
This was much better than petting a cow. “No, Miss Witfeld. They weren’t just talk.”
“Prove it.”
He went hard. The tales about the full moon causing insanity were apparently true, but he wasn’t going to waste any damned time trying to find a cure for this particular madness.
They kissed, hard and heated and leaving no doubt that she wasn’t flirting or teasing. “We can’t do this here,” he muttered, casting his gaze about the property.
“The stable?” she suggested, tugging his coat down his shoulders.
“Not very romantic.”
She slowed, meeting his gaze. “We can’t go back to the house. Someone would see us. And I’m certainly not walking three miles to the inn outside of Trowbridge. They know my family there, anyway.”
He grinned at her annoyance. “You’ve convinced me. The stable it is.”
Zachary took her hand. Her fingers curled around his as they made their way around the drive and to the back door of the stable. Only one stable hand slept inside, and he was in the tack room at the front of the building. Up in the loft, they would be undisturbed.
Caroline climbed the ladder first, giving Zachary an enticing sight of her bare legs as she ascended. He’d been teasing at her for days, but in truth he was surprised she’d succumbed. If Caroline was one thing, it was foc
used. Something had talked her into straying tonight, though, and he intended to enjoy it. Of course in his imagination this second time would have been on a soft bed with silk sheets and surrounded by flickering candlelight, but opportunity and intention didn’t always coincide.
His coat landed on a pile of hay, followed by his waistcoat and his boots. There would be no settling for shoving his trousers down to his thighs and humping tonight. “Come here,” he whispered, kissing her again.
She turned her back to him, and he undid the fastenings down the back of her gown. Despite wanting to hurry, to lay her on her back and take her before her better sense returned, he made himself go slowly, alternating open buttons with kisses to the nape of her neck until he could feel her trembling beneath his hands.
“Zachary.”
As she faced him again he slowly pulled down the front of her gown and slipped the straps of her shift off her shoulders to her waist. He would have preferred daylight or at least the damned romantic candlelight, but the white-blue glow of the moon through the open loft doors gave her skin an unearthly shimmer that intoxicated him.
Her gown pooled around her feet, and she stepped out of it, into the circle of his arms. With her help he pulled his shirt off over his head and dumped it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes. His cock strained at his trousers, and when her fingers brushed along the material, he flinched.
Before he could unfasten his pants, she pushed his hands away and did it herself. Whatever shyness or tentativeness she’d felt before, she’d obviously overcome. Zachary stepped out of his trousers and stood there for a moment, naked, just gazing at the ivory-skinned goddess before him.
Her own gaze lowered to his cock. Reaching out one hand, she wrapped her fingers around him. “More anatomy lessons?” he asked shakily, when he could speak.
“I didn’t get a very good look at you before,” she said absently, as she gently stroked the length of him.
His half-closed eyes flew open. “Sweet…explore to your heart’s content, then. By all means.”
She took him at his word, running her hands along his cock and beneath his scrotum, while he clenched his jaw and took it. If she was gaining information for a painting or a sculpture, it was going to be an interesting one.
“Zachary, how does it feel?” she murmured.
“If it feels this good for much longer, I won’t be able to hold up my part of this exchange.”
A slow smile curved her lips, and she sank onto her knees. Her gaze lifting to his, she kissed the tip of his manhood.
“Christ, Caro. That’s enough of that.”
Settling onto his own knees in front of her, he took her mouth in a hard, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues tangled, their mutual need pulling them closer. Gently he slid his arms around her back and tilted her backward until she lay flat on the hay and piled clothes.
Moving over her, he took her right breast into his mouth, sucking as he caressed and teased the other one. Turnabout was fair play, and since she’d nearly sent him over the edge with just her hand and her fingers, he felt free to do the same to her. His gaze lifting to hers and his mouth still occupied with her breasts, he dipped a finger between her thighs.
Caroline gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders and then relaxing as her head tipped back. He didn’t need to ask how she felt; her damp heat made him shake. Raising up to kiss her again, he parted her thighs further and slid his finger deeper inside her.
She moaned, bucking beneath his ministrations. Despite the ache in his own groin, he trailed his mouth from her breast down her belly and then lifted her knees in his hands. He leaned in, flicking his tongue inside her.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, flinging her arms out, her hands grasping at his hair. “Stop, please. Please, please stop.”
Her hands, though, pulled him in closer against her rather than pushing him away. He lifted his head. “Say what you mean, Caroline. If you want me to stop, I will.” It would kill him, but he would.
“No, no. It’s…it’s just too much. I can’t hold on.”
He knew what she meant. He was very close to the edge himself. “Then let go, love,” he murmured, lowering his face again.
He shifted his kisses to the inside of her thighs, trailing his mouth along her legs and back up again to lick her breasts. He wanted her on her back, helpless and moaning while he found his release inside her. But he’d made her a promise—several of them, in fact—and if she was going to Vienna at the end of a week, she was going to remember tonight.
Stretching out along her body, he took her mouth again. Sliding his arms around her, he rolled them so that she was on top, with him looking up at her. “Sit up,” he said roughly.
He sat with her, lifting her hips and then guiding her down slowly onto his turgid member. Christ, she felt so tight, and so hot. Moaning, impaled, she sank along his chest, kissing his nipples as he’d done hers.
Unable to hold still, he angled his hips up against her again and again, as slowly and deeply as he could stand. He felt her growing tighter, clenching around him, and then the bucking, shattering pulsation as she came. Zachary held her down on him, muffling her cry with his mouth.
She collapsed, gasping and limp, across his chest. Zachary pulled the pins from her hair, tangling the auburn mass through his fingers while they tried to regain their breath. With every wiggle and sigh and breath she made he came closer to losing control, and he fought for every second.
As she sat up again, he shifted his hands to her breasts, warm and slick with sweat. “You feel very nice,” he murmured.
“Does this feel nice, too?” she asked breathlessly, lifting up onto her knees and sinking back again.
Damnation, she caught on quickly. Finally giving in to need, he lowered his hands to her thighs, rocking her against him as he thrust upward. Harder, deeper, faster, again and again, until he felt her moving along with him once more, straight to oblivion. Twisting his waist, he flipped both of them over again, her thighs spread on either side of his hips and ankles wrapped around his thighs, their bodies rocking as he pinned her to the hay-covered floor. As she shattered, he sped his pace, growling as he left her at the last possible moment.
Caroline kept a hand on the back of his head, the other around his shoulder, as their breathing slowed to something close to normal. For perhaps the first time in her life, she didn’t want to move—didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything, or think about anything.
That, though, was both foolish and dangerous. She made herself stir a little. “We should go back inside before they miss us.”
“No.” Zachary grabbed a discarded cloth, then sank down again beside her, still touching skin to skin. He leaned over and kissed her, more quiet and gathered this time.
“We can’t stay here.”
“Maybe not, but we don’t have to go back yet.”
Reaching up, she ran a finger along his lower lip. He’d said he meant to pleasure her, and she felt completely shattered. But there was still the nagging thought that this could all just have been about him. Considering how good she felt, that shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. “Zachary, are you a rake?”
His chest rumbled with his deep, responding laughter. “You said I wasn’t.”
“But was I correct?”
He looked down for a moment, that thoughtful expression touching his face again. “I don’t consider myself one. I suppose there are those who would disagree.”
“What makes a rake?”
“This isn’t a conversation about art.”
She supposed she deserved that, considering the way she’d dismissed their last encounter. “I’m going to Vienna. Whatever information you could give me would be useful.”
“Vienna. Yes, that’s right.” He drew a breath, his fingers slowly and lightly, almost absently, tracing a trail across her breasts. “A rake. A rake is only interested in himself, in his own pleasure, and he doesn’t care about the feelings or reputations of his conquests except ins
ofar as there’s no scandal that could trap him or force him to alter his ways.”
She didn’t want to move or breathe, or do anything that would make him stop touching her. “Then I agree; you aren’t a rake.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’m not a mistress.”
He looked at her, his gray eyes as black and deep as wells in the moonlight. “I never asked you to be one. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed, and if your business took you to London instead of Vienna I wouldn’t object, but I’m not trying to govern your life, Caroline.”
“I know that. I know. It’s just…I did want to be with you again, but I am still going to Vienna. I am going to be a painter.”
Zachary smiled. “You are a painter.”
She sat up. “Yes, well, now I’m going to get paid for it. And I’ll get respect for it.”
Rolling onto his back, Zachary put a hand behind his head and watched as she pulled on her shift. Just his eyes on her left a warmth radiating beneath her skin, but she did her best to ignore it. Men might very well look at her that way in the future, after all, but she had no intention of erring with anyone she didn’t trust.
Caroline paused as she slipped her muslin gown back over her shoulders. Trust. She did trust him—more than she would have believed from their first meeting.
“Here, let me,” he said, standing to hand over her hair clips and fasten the back of her gown.
The tug and pull of the material, together with knowing that a very handsome and very naked man stood inches from her, made her heart pound all over again. And beneath the heat and the renewed lust, that annoyed her. For heaven’s sake, she’d become some sort of wanton harlot. She’d been with him twice, and she was not going to give in to that weakness again. Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough, obviously, because the more swiftly she left Wiltshire, the more swiftly she would be able to put him out of her mind.
“Thank you,” she said as he finished.
He turned her around. Hands on her shoulders, he bent his head to kiss her. At the soft, possessive touch, she swore that her toes curled in her slippers. Fine, he could be possessive of her until they reached the house. After that, their interlude was over with.
An Invitation to Sin Page 24
