by Claudy Conn
She watched him silently as he tethered her horse and turned to take her hand. “Let’s leave them here for a moment and walk for a bit, shall we?”
“Yes,” was all she could manage. Something was happening to her, something mad, something beautiful, something … outrageously wicked. This was wicked, but she didn’t care.
He took her hand and said, “There is so much about you I don’t know. Serena, just who are you? What do you want?”
She eyed him. “I don’t know how to answer that. Each person experiences life in a different way and ends up as the sum total of those experiences.”
“And what is your sum total? I repeat, what do you want?”
“What everyone really wants—to be happy,” she answered simply.
He crushed her into his embrace.
* * *
When he saw her fly off the horse, he thought his heart would stop. Pain shot through his brain and his body at the notion that she might be hurt. It was his fault. He should have allowed her to run the horse down until he stopped on his own.
Her golden hair was windblown around her beautiful face. She wore britches that hugged her body and displayed her hips, her ass, her lovely long legs to perfection. His shaft was hard and ready and becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Her nipples were pert, defined as they pressed up against the thin material of her shirt, begging him for attention, and he wanted to give those nipples some serious attention.
He couldn’t think. Everything about her whipped up the need in him to kiss her, touch her, make her his own, and it had nothing to do with Freddy.
She had rested her face against his back during the short ride to find her horse, and her touch, her sweet trusting body against his back, had sent tremors of pleasure through him.
He had seen her take a hard landing, but she had not complained. She was the most unusual female he had ever known, and he wanted to know more about her. He wanted her, plain and simple. He damn well had to have her. He couldn’t think of anything but her, her lips, and her luscious body beneath his own.
He crushed her into his arms, and his tongue met hers with a fever he had never before experienced. She tasted like more. He had to have more. She was delicious, and the way her body fit his was perfect, so perfect.
She responded to him in a way he had not imagined she would. He found the neckline of her shirt and discovered she wore no underclothes beneath it. He opened it wide and took a moment to stare. Her breasts were full, high, and tempting him into madness.
He knew he was in trouble and didn’t care … he reached for and began fondling her breasts with a skill he hoped gave her as much pleasure as it gave him. He wet his palm and rubbed it against those rose tips, and when she moaned, he thought he would explode.
She was exquisite, and he found that the man he had been was no more. He had always been in control. He never lost control of himself for even the most beautiful women. He always gave even as he took, but he never lost himself to a lover.
Here he was doing just that. His will had been dissolved—no, it had been smashed to smithereens by his desire for this one woman.
“Serena … Serena, oh but I should stop. I have no right …” he tried for her sake.
“No, you shouldn’t. You mustn’t. I am tired of being staid and waiting, forever waiting … I want this,” she answered. “I want you.”
That was the end of any of his purer intentions. He was in a feral state of mind. His body had taken over. He had never allowed his desires for a beautiful woman to take command over his good sense, but he was on fire. All he knew was that he was in trouble.
More than that, he realized that he wanted to make her his own. He wanted to lie with her and get inside of her, and damn, bloody damn, that was what he was going to do.
He was diving into this with his eyes wide open.
He was a cannon ball heading for its target, and he had no control. She was the one he had to have, and he was riveted by the passion he felt.
* * *
In his arms, the proprieties were forgotten.
Rules and morals were set aside.
Life burst and pulled her in. Excitement blotted out any thoughts of stopping, because a well of stored-up passion burst inside her.
His kiss was an erotic sensation that took hold, and Serena wanted it and the promise of what was to follow. She had quite made up her mind. She would have this moment. She was in love with him, and she wanted this memory if she could have nothing else. She was certain that she would never love again, never like this. She had waited so long for her heart to be swept up and taken hold of by the right man. He was the right man for her; how could she forego this?
She wanted him now, this moment imprinted in her brain forever. If and when he left her, she would have this, and it would open a new, wondrous place in her soul, a place where she would know love, even if it was just for this stolen time.
His kisses sent all logic into oblivion. She was on fire for him, for everything his touch offered. Would she regret it in the morning? Perhaps, but right now it was what she wanted, he was what she wanted, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop.
His riding cloak was off and on the ground, as was her buckskin jacket. Her shirt was open wide, and how she managed to slip out of her boots, she couldn’t tell, but they were off, as were her britches.
He still had on his white shirt, britches, and boots, but his britches were open, and he had released his large, hard manhood. She stared, for he was nearly as large as a stallion.
He hugged her against himself as his right hand took hold of her butt and manipulated it against his rod. Her cleft twitched and jerked with need, and she was a prisoner to the passion. He murmured, his lips against hers, “I want you, Serena, more than I have ever wanted a woman …”
She wished he had said ‘I love you’, but she meant to settle for ‘wanting’ right then. Perhaps he would say it afterwards. Surely he must feel ‘something’ of what she felt. How could he not and show such ardor?
She had been ready for lovemaking from the moment she had seen him. Her body had been sending her signals for months before, and she knew the time had come for this experience, with or without marriage. What if she never married, her mind had asked. Should she not know this? Should she not experience what it was to be wanted in this way?
He had her down on his cloak, which was stretched out like a blanket. She felt his lips travel over her neck, and then as he fondled and cupped her breasts, he bent his head.
As his tongue lapped at her nipples, a growing sensation made her arch to his ministrations. She didn’t know she could feel this way. She was flooded with a pleasure she had never experienced before. She heard herself gasp as she clenched and her body trembled with the erotic tremors stretching through her.
He suckled at her nipples and whispered, “Delicious … Serena, you are a beauty …” He murmured her name as his hand traveled down to her belly and then further to the soft tuft between her thighs.
She was aware that a wet, hot pool had collected between her thighs, but as he grabbed a hold and vibrated her with his skilled hand, she arched again, only this time she was on the precipice, right there, ready for relief, needing that relief.
He slid his finger inside her and worked her with a skill that drew his name to her lips. Her voice held an urgency as she called out his name, “Daniel … Daniel …”
“Yes, beauty … that’s right, my sweet lovely, that’s right,” he said on a hushed and husky note. “You are so moist … so warm and ready, my sweet Serena, just let go.” He had her hand in his and moved into position so that he could place her hand around his hard, throbbing shaft. “Touch me, love.”
She wanted to, and she immediately clasped onto him. He guided her hand over his cock, and she felt her breathing escape in short clips. His voice was at her ear, his teeth nibbling there as he whispered, “Your hands are perfect … so perfect,” as he re-entered her with one finger and manipula
ted her into a frenzy.
She pulled on his dripping shaft as he worked her honey box. She called out his name because she was on fire and needed something … she was building up to a point where she wanted to explode. She needed something—she needed release from the delicious pleasure she was a prisoner of. He had built her into a peak of passion, and she felt as though she needed to move into his fingers and make them touch … the right … spot.
He found it, that sensitive clit, and he worked it until she cried out with exuberance. She had never before had such pleasure, never before experienced that peak, that climax her friends had told her about.
He groaned out her name as he got into position and mounted her. Yes, yes, she wanted more, she thought, more of the same. He lifted her rump and entered her slowly. She felt his shaft make a tentative entrance, and her body bucked for more of him. He groaned out her name, and suddenly he drove himself hard and fast into her wet and clinging portal.
He ripped through her and a little cry of pain escaped her throat, but it was over quickly and he soothed her with words of admiration. In her ear, he whispered, “Ah sweet maiden, would that I were sorry, but I am not. I am thrilled to be your first …”
She was thrilled that he was her first and wanted him to be her last. She wanted him to demand to be her last.
She clung to him with all her might. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her body as something grew and grew and peaked once more. He moved inside her with hard, pumping motions, and once again she felt an explosion deep inside her womb that made her entire body tremble, this time even more than the first time. She shuddered from the impact. Her body twitched and jerked with pleasure as it was released all through her. She said his name over and over, “Daniel … oh Daniel … Daniel …”
He paused as he looked down at her. “You beauty, you. Sweet, sweet love,” he murmured as he began shoving himself hard and fast into her. “I want to stay inside of you and never leave. I want you, Serena …”
His pumping action was like a siren’s song and mesmerized her body to respond to his every move in like form. She matched his movements, arched to him, bucked with him, and was thrilled at the words of praise he whispered in her ear.
All at once, she felt herself clench around his rod so tightly inside her. Serena felt the heat build up in her, and again that riveting, all-consuming pleasure was released in her body, making her jerk into him as she gasped over and over again.
The release he made her experience over and over again was like nothing she had ever experienced before.
Even as she still shivered with pleasure, she felt his body tense. He called out her name, groaning with wild abandon as he reached his climax, and she felt his hot seed explode inside her.
He held her so tightly that for a moment she felt they were breathing as one being. He relaxed and withdrew from her, but even as he rolled onto his back, he pulled her close and held her. He reached and took up the cloak and covered her as he kissed her forehead, took up her hand, and kissed her fingers gently to whisper her name, “Ah Serena, Serena, my own sweet-life.”
She cuddled into his chin, and he squeezed her hard for a moment before sighing sadly. He said, “I want to get you dressed … quickly, and away from here. I should not have exposed you out here in the open.” He shook his head. “I feel the cad to have done this here … like this. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It takes two,” she said softly.
He touched her face. “You beauty, you.” He was on his feet, but he pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and sweetly. “Come, we must get dressed and away.”
She agreed. Suddenly she felt the cold breeze touch her hot skin, so she rushed to get her clothes back on. As she pulled on her shirt she felt oddly shy and rushed about, avoiding his eye though she knew he was looking at her.
He waited for her to pull on her boots before he pulled her into his arms. “Serena … I, I …” He sighed and said softly, “must get you safely home.”
She couldn’t meet his eye and felt absurd. Where was the self-assured woman she was proud she had become? She felt like a school girl hoping to win favor.
She had done just what she wanted. He had not seduced her, for she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. The difference was, she was in love, and he, well she wasn’t sure what he was—probably in lust, only in lust.
“Up with you, beauty,” he said after leading her to her horse.
Had that been affection in his tone or the sound a man made after he had lusted with a woman? She couldn’t tell, for she had no experience in the matter, but she could hope.
She knew what she felt was unconditional love, thorough and quite devastating, for she knew that life without him, should he leave, would be a horror.
She wasn’t sure that he loved her, or that she could make him love her, and the notion that if he didn’t he would leave her behind was more worrisome than she had anticipated.
She had thought that her life experiences, her age of three and twenty, had prepared her for this moment, but had it?
She allowed him to give her a leg up and waited for him to mount his horse, wondering what was next. What did one do when one had thrown away one’s maidenhood to a man who had not declared himself? Not his fault. He had not seduced a young girl. She was a woman and had known the consequences, she told herself. She had gone willingly into his arms.
He said, “I will see you home.”
She smiled. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Oh, but it is,” he said and reached over to stroke her cheek.
They rode at a trot, beside one another, and as she was deep in thought, she did not feel awkward about the silence between them.
As they rode side by side he said softly, “Serena, I …”
“Yes?”
“About Freddy, I think—”
“What about Freddy?” She interrupted him, shocked that of all the things he chose at that moment to speak about, he had chosen to bring up his nephew.
“I should think you would understand that it is time for you to send him off. I only hope you will let him down easy.”
He sounded so cold, collected and formal. He sounded as though he had done a job, and now that job was done, it was time for payment—that payment was to free Freddy. How could he? Did he not know who she was? Had he not realized that she had refused Freddy long ago? Had he not realized she had told Freddy firmly to go back to school? How could he think that after she had lain with him? How could he think she would in any manner have encouraged Freddy to court her? And why hadn’t Freddy told him she had refused him over and over again?
Hurt crept into her heart, and for a moment her mind was filled with fog and mist, as were her eyes.
There had been no affection in his tone, no concern for her and how she might feel at this moment. He knew she had been a virgin, and he was experienced enough to know that she must be, at the very least, taken with him—and here he was, talking of Freddy?
Waves of doubt and pin pricks of hurt flooded through her as she realized that perhaps, just perhaps, he had made love to her to pry her away from his nephew.
“At the moment, I have done nothing to give Freddy hope in my direction and, thus, have nothing to let him down about.”
“Have you not? And yet he hangs on your every word and follows you around like a puppy. Do you mean to tell me he does so without encouragement?” he said in a clipped voice.
She frowned. There it was. The truth staring her in the face. He was suddenly cold, and his tone held condemnation.
“Do you question me?” Her chin was up.
“I am only pointing out the obvious,” he answered sharply.
He had seduced her to pry her away from Freddy.
It was all so clear. Did it matter? Even though she had gone willingly and with her eyes wide open into his arms, it did matter. It mattered a great deal. It was one thing to make love to a woman without making promises; it was quite another
to make love to her for an ulterior motive.
She sat her saddle stiffly. “I have only encouraged one man … and already regret it.” She turned her horse away from him and, without looking back, took the line fence and rode straight to the stables. He did not follow, and she felt as though her heart had been torn in two. She jumped off her horse, and before her groom was able to reach her and take the reins, she ran for the house, her heart already breaking and the tears racing down her face.
He did not love her.
She had known at the outset that he might not love her, but she had believed he wanted her and that perhaps, just perhaps, that might grow into love.
She had never suspected that he was merely seducing her away from Freddy. How could he think she would accept his nephew’s suit?
How could he think she would pry the boy away from school and a future that was still ahead of him?
He could not know her. And Freddy? Why had he not told his uncle that she had refused his offer of marriage and told him to return to school?
She opened the door and ran past Davis, up the stairs, and to her bed, where she threw herself down with some abandon.
Her sobs were muffled by her pillow, but even so, the squire, who had just been walking down the hall to his own chamber, heard very well.
He frowned, his eyes narrowing, and decided that he needed to do some investigating. Something or someone had hurt his niece.
~ Twelve ~
SERENA TOOK UP the reins of her small curricle and clicked to the single horse pulling it to go forward. She was determined to get his lordship out of her mind. Daniel Pendleton, she told herself wasn’t real. It had all been a dream. She had experienced lovemaking for the first and probably last time in her life, and that was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Yes, it was.
She turned off Moorely drive onto the main pike, and suddenly there he was, Lord Daniel Pendleton. He immediately maneuvered his horse so that he rode his horse alongside her curricle.
