‘As long as you’re sure doing so won’t further impede your own work. Trekking to the wilds of Devon and Cornwall, rather than remaining in London with your friends, determining strategy for the next session of Parliament, has to have already set you back.’
‘I can manage. Travelling with you, riding the countryside, watching you work, has been a pleasure.’
His obvious sincerity, and the genuine affection in his gaze, created a curious tightness in her chest. ‘You’ve made it a pleasure for me, too. After your performance with the merchants in Dornton Village, I knew you would be good at arranging food and lodging. But I hadn’t anticipated you would be able to nose out locals who know the best places to find the birds I needed to observe. Being guided to just the right locale has saved me hours and allowed me to finish more sketches than I’d thought possible on this one trip.’ She sighed. ‘It won’t be the same in future, travelling without you.’
‘I wish I could accompany you on every trip! But another week at most and I must return to London. By then, Russell should have a coach ready for your inspection, a coachman and grooms to ride escort, and Mrs Ingleton will have selection of maids for you to choose from to assist Molly. You can be off again as soon as all is ready.’
Travelling about England, observing nature, producing not just the sketches wanted by the current publisher, but other works painted in the field...it was the fulfilment of the dream she’d cherished for years. She was thrilled to be able to finally be living it.
But somehow, after the time they’d shared together, setting off again without Ben by her side wasn’t nearly as appealing as it had been a month ago.
She was going to miss him far too much. Which was the best reason to set out again immediately, before she became too attached to a man who had her permission to go his own way. ‘Yes, if I’m to finish everything, I shouldn’t tarry long in London.’
Refilling her wine cup, he handed it to her and, this time, let his fingers cover hers. ‘Unless you want to linger,’ he said, his voice rough and low. His eyes never leaving her face, he put the cup to her lips, tipped it up to let her swallow, then caught a drip on his finger before it could dribble down her chin. Moving the cup away, he held his finger out, offering her the drop.
Mesmerised by his eyes on hers, she licked his finger—and then sucked it into her mouth, thrilling at the taste of wine and salty flesh.
Heat spiralled in her belly, sending a wash of arousal throughout her body. Ben groaned, or maybe it was her own moan she heard. His breathing uneven, he pulled his finger free.
This time, his hands were definitely shaking.
Before she could say a word, he jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll take another ride around the cliffs, see if I can find a better clump of brush for you to sketch from. Tiddle at the inn said there are several places where the plovers roost.’
And then he was gone, catching up the reins of his horse and swinging into the saddle.
Her own fingers trembling, Alyssa finished the wine. After putting the remnants of bread, ham and cheese in the basket, she gathered her supplies and headed back to the copse, her senses still swirling.
For the first time she could remember, she went back to sketching wishing she might be doing something else.
* * *
The next day brought a return of the bright sun and mild weather for which the West Country was famed. One could hardly believe winter loomed ever closer, Alyssa thought, lifting her face to the warmth.
The birds knew the secret of the Devon coast, too, and flocked here, drawn by the warm temperatures, steady sunshine, bountiful supply of fish, seeds and insects. Today, she was in search of the sea birds Tiddle had told Ben nested in some of the caves. Ben had ridden out with the man earlier this morning, to be shown which caves she could safely linger and sketch in, without threat of being caught by the rising tide.
Leaving their horses to graze on the hillside above, they picked their way down the steep path to the beach, Ben bringing the blanket, picnic and supplies. ‘I’ll walk along the sand and explore the other outcroppings while you work, but stay within hailing distance,’ he said as they approached the wide opening of the cave. ‘Tiddle and I checked this out thoroughly, so you shouldn’t encounter anything menacing, but it’s a wild area. One should always remain on alert.’
Like a wide mouth opening in the hillside, the cave curved back from the sea, the water side offering first beach, then a jumble of rocks like a pile of blocks a child had sent tumbling—the spot where the sea birds liked to nest, they’d been told, the overhang of the cave protecting the nests from the worst of the wind, but open to the sky, with a supply of food from the sea just before them. Behind the rocks, still open to the sky, were smaller outcroppings, before the earthen roof closed over the back of the cave and its floor of rocks and dry sand.
Ben deposited the blanket and basket for their picnic lunch under the shade of the overhang. ‘Did you see the nests, on the outcropping there? I’ll help you climb to a place where you’ll have a good view of the birds as they come and go.’
Pleased that he offered a hand, she took it, sighing a bit at the instant spark of connection. Only the need to pay close attention to her footing, lest she slip on the irregular surfaces, distracted her from the sweet pleasure of indulging in his touch.
How she wanted more of it!
Thankfully for her concentration, if not for her needy senses, Ben left her as soon as he’d seen her safely settled among the rocks. Just after he’d climbed away, one of the magnificent sea birds swooped in to its nest, gliding on the wind like a feral kite. Captivated, she at first remained perfectly still, not wanting to scare it from its perch, while she catalogued in her mind the exact hues of its head, beak, eyes, wings, so she might mark the colour on her sketch in case the bird flew off before she could get her supplies out.
Perhaps her presence was masked by the wind that blew her scent landward, or the roar and hiss of the surf, or perhaps, knowing it could soar away as quickly as it came, the bird considered her no threat. To her delight, as she slowly opened her sketchbook and brought out her pastels, the creature didn’t stir.
* * *
For several hours, she lost herself in drawing the magnificent wildness perched so close to her. At length, the bird stood, spread out its magnificent wings as if stretching and flew off. She smiled as she watch it go, awed, humbled, and satisfied to have her sketch almost complete; she’d not need to work by candlelight in her room tonight.
Closing the sketchbook, she looked around to find Ben seated among some rocks nearby. Smiling, he clambered over to her.
‘Finished?’
‘Nearly.’
‘Satisfied with it?’
‘Oh, yes. What a wonderful spot, Ben! The breakers, the wind, the sand—it’s perfection. I almost wish I could be a sea bird and stay here for ever. Thank you so much for finding it for me.’
He leaned over to catch a strand of dark hair the wind had teased loose from her coiffure. ‘You might be a sea sprite, washed up among the rocks,’ he said, pulling the strand through his fingers. ‘A naughty siren, come ashore to torture poor mortals with nearly unbearable temptation.’
Her breath caught as she gazed into the green depths of his eyes. Did he mean that she’d been tempting him to the breaking point? That he hadn’t been as cool and indifferent as he’d seemed for most of this journey?
The suggestion that he might have found it difficult to keep his hands off her—that he’d hungered for her as much as she’d been wanting him these last few days—sparked her always simmering desire. A heated urgency warmed her from her stomach down to her core, while her toes and fingers tingled.
Before she could get her stunned brain to summon any words, he said, ‘Let me tempt you with some wine and ham. I have everything ready.’
Her tongue
still too clumsy for speech, she gathered up book and pastels, eagerly taking the arm he offered, relishing the jolt of sensation as her fingers touched his sleeve. She would have pulled closer, into his arms, had the slick rocks and uneven surfaces not demanded she watch her steps. By the time they’d reached the beach, her heart was pounding and not just from the difficulty of the descent.
To her delight, Ben offered his arm again as he walked her into cave where, under the outcropping of rock, he’d spread out a blanket on the dry sand. She gave herself up to enjoying the thrill of his arm under her fingers, a thrill that intensified when they reached the blanket and he urged her to sit, massaging her shoulders before taking a seat beside her.
‘You must be stiff after sitting still so long, sketching.’
She nodded, though ‘stiff’ was not at all what she felt. Everything within her was flowing, swirling in rhythm with the throb of her pulse, as heated sensations sparked in her breasts, at her lips, in her centre.
Her attention glued on Ben, she was barely conscious of the ham, cheese and bread he set out before her, watching him as he seemed to imbue every gesture with sensual overtones.
Her mouth dried and her brain stuttered as his fingers traced over the surface of the apple like a caress before he cupped it in one hand, drew his knife slowly through it and broke it into halves. He bit into his half, giving her glimpses of tongue and teeth as he ate slowly, licking the sweet juice from his lips.
Alternately tearing ham, cheese and bread into strips, he trailed each morsel over his lips, as if feeling as well as tasting it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the aroma, before popping it in his mouth to consume.
Scarcely conscious of what she was doing, she managed to eat some of what lay before her. But when he once again offered her the wine cup, then brushed his thumb over her mouth after she’d swallowed, she reached the limit of her endurance.
Pushing the wine away, she reached up, seized his head and pulled him down for the kiss she craved.
To her surprise and chagrin, he caught her hands and pushed her away.
‘Do you not...want to kiss me?’ she asked in a small voice.
He made a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. ‘I’ve wanted that, and much more, since the first moment I saw you in the woods at Dornton.’
‘Then why refuse me? Punishment for resisting you so long?’
‘No! Not at all. I just want to make sure you really know what you’re doing. That you have no regrets. It would kill me to taste you and have you withdraw again.’
‘But you would, if I asked you.’
He sighed. ‘I would, if you needed me to. But it would be deucedly difficult.’
That reassurance seemed to cinder the last of her caution. ‘Then I’m sure. No doubts and no regrets. I want you now! Please, Ben.’
‘You are certain.’
‘Yes, yes!’ she cried impatiently. ‘Absolutely certain.’
‘Well, you do appear...actively encouraging.’
She smiled, recalling the indignant words spoken so long ago. ‘Enthusiastically encouraging,’ she said, reaching for him.
His eyes blazed with a sudden heat that sent fingers of flame sparking all over her body. Slowly, he ran one finger down her cheek. ‘Passionately demanding?’
With a little huff of frustration, Alyssa pulled his face down to hers for a kiss that was as fierce as it was needy. Clambering on to his lap, she pressed herself to him, opened to him as his tongue probed her lips.
She ran her hands down his back, over the firmness of his buttocks, and felt his hardness jerk against her belly. Heart pounding, as she rubbed herself against it, he groaned and cupped her bottom to bring her closer, his tongue laving hers hard and fast.
He brought one hand to her breasts, his thumb rubbing against her taut nipples, sparking another surge of sensation even though the layers of fabric. She craved to feel his hand on her bare skin, but that was hopeless, she’d never be able to peel herself out of the layers of shift and corset and bodice without a maid and she couldn’t wait until they returned to the inn.
Ben, fortunately, was encased in fewer layers. One hard jerk and she dislodge the knot of his cravat, tearing at the folds until she could claw open his shirt. Sighing into his mouth as she found naked skin, she rubbed her fingers against the bareness of his chest, down to the hard nipples, wanting more, closer.
Thrusting her hand lower still, she eased away from him and popped open the buttons of his straining trouser flap, freeing his erection. She took him in her hand, marvelling as she stroked the hard shaft down to the velvet tip.
‘Take me now. Please,’ she whispered against his mouth.
‘I don’t want...to hurt you,’ he gasped out between panting breaths. Staying her exploring fingers, he said, ‘A bed...would be better. Cushion you. Make it easier.’
She squeezed him gently, eliciting another groan. ‘Though I’m still, technically, a maid, I do have...some knowledge.’
‘Did he...claim you?’
‘Not with this,’ she replied, freeing her hand to stroke him again. ‘But he did explore me with these.’ Taking Ben’s hand, she thrust it under her skirts, up to where her thighs spread wide as she straddled him, through the opening of her drawers, to the sweet spot at her centre that was moist and plump and waiting.
‘Like this?’ he asked as he stroked there.
‘Yes,’ she gasped, driven to move her hips against his hand.
‘And this?’ He slipped a finger between the folds, into her passage, while his thumb massaged the little nub above.
‘Yes. But...I want more. You...within me. Now.’
Pushing him back against a boulder, she lifted herself, dragged up her skirts and straddled him. Bracing herself against his chest, she urged his hands around to cup her bare bottom as she guided him to the entrance of her passage and rubbed herself against the tip of his shaft, which leapt as it touched her. She gasped at the exquisite feel of him, pressing against her.
For long tortuous moments, she kept him there, caressing her moist folds as the sensations built to greater and greater intensity. Moved by some inner compulsion, she lowered herself on him, taking him inside inch by cautious inch.
She had some dim expectation that pain might force her to stop, but apparently nimble fingers had done their work, for she felt none, nothing more than a tightening and stretching as he reached her depths. With a long slow sigh, she settled herself over him.
But remaining immobile didn’t seem possible. Following some nameless imperative, she rocked against him, small movements that brought a surge of sensation.
‘Are you...all right?’ he asked.
‘Wonderful,’ she gasped, kissing him hard. ‘What...now?’
‘This,’ he whispered and began to thrust upward.
Driven by instinct, she caught the rhythm immediately. Hands gripping her, arms rigid, Ben moved with her, faster and faster, until she seemed to surmount some precipice and with an explosion of sensation more intense than anything she’d ever experienced, shattered into a rippling, pulsing waves of pleasure.
Crying out, Ben wrapped his arms around her and bound her against his chest.
For long, slow, minutes, the incredible sensations shimmered and danced until slowly fading away, like the glimmer of fireflies as they disappear into the night. Filled with a languid sense of well-being, Alyssa reclined against his chest, her head tucked under her chin.
‘I guess we gave the birds and bees a lesson,’ he murmured at last.
Filled with an exuberant joy, Alyssa felt no sense of awkwardness or embarrassment. Instead, she raised up to give him another kiss. ‘I’m an idiot. Why did you let me wait so long?’
‘I promised that passion would be your choice. Though I admit, I might have helped you along a bit today
.’
A daunting thought pierced her euphoria. ‘How could you wait so long?’ she asked with a frown. ‘Or maybe you didn’t find the experience as...wonderful as—’
Laughing, he cut off her sentence with a kiss. ‘I found it astounding. Unforgettable. An embrace of passion as unique as you are.’
Reassured, she subsided back against him with a sigh. ‘I don’t think my brain or arms are capable of doing any more sketching today. But if we return to the inn...could we do more of this? How long do we have to wait for—’ she bounced on him ‘—you know? Oh!’
He grinned, knowing she’d felt his member stirring within her. ‘I think I’ll be ready again by the time we get back to the inn.’
She gave him a long, slow, lazy kiss, laving his tongue—and felt him stir again, more forcefully.
‘I want to do that to every part of your body,’ she murmured.
‘And I to yours. That’s another promise.’
‘And you always keep your promises.’
‘Always.’
‘Excellent.’ Slowly she eased herself off him. ‘Then why are we not already packing up?’
Chapter Thirteen
Late the next afternoon, Alyssa sat in her hiding spot among the copse of high bushes and low trees, the windswept headland before her, the cliffs and the sea to her back. The winter migrant she’d been sketching had flown off half an hour ago and had not returned. She’d wait another thirty minutes and, if no likely specimens arrived, hunt out Ben, if he didn’t stop by for her before that.
Arriving back at the inn early offered definite benefits, she thought, a ripple of remembered pleasure warming her as she recalled the delightful activities they’d indulged in when they returned from the cliffs the previous afternoon. Though Ben had been outwardly calm and unhurried, Alyssa was in a fever of eagerness she couldn’t have hidden if she tried. Evicting Molly, who’d been taking a nap on the trundle at the foot of the chamber they shared, she’d stuffed her art supplies on the low bench, pulled Ben in after her and attacked his neckcloth.
Convenient Proposal to the Lady Page 17
