We are face to face. In the bright daylight I see that his green eyes are amber-flecked. His features, usually so pretty, are blunted with fear. I should feel the same alarm that clearly has him frightenedon my behalf, but I find myself distracted by his nearness. My core pulses. I wonder if lying like this with me will get him hard.
“Alfred, do you think this is really?—”
“Shh,” he says. “Hush.”
The hunters’ voices draw closer.
“This way, I saw it!” cries one man.
“We’ve lost it now,” Liddell says. “God damn it.”
“Now look at that,” says another.
For a moment, I think we have been discovered.
But then Liddell says, “The whore’s carriage. At the Ludlow place. If Lyle Ludlow hadn’t been a friend of my father’s, I’d have a word with ‘im about consorting with such filth.”
“No reason we can’t get her from the place. No harm will come to him.”
“What blockheads I am with,” the first man says. “If you lay a finger on her, you’ll be executed. Especially if there are witnesses. She might be a whore, but she is a rich one. And the owner of the Abbey.”
I swallow. I have heard all manner of insults before, but it doesn’t mean that I glory in them now—and certainly not with the men so close and so willing to do me harm.
Alfred’s grip on me tightens. And then I feel it—his cockstand digging into my thigh. I fight a smile. The man is as impossible as me. We are about to be murdered—orIam, anyway—and the man has acockstand.
I shift against him, just slightly, and he stills me with his hands. I hear a small, almost imperceptible intake of breath and know that I am tempting him, even under the circumstances.
Madly, I bring my lips up to his mouth. He shudders against me.
“You’re right about witnesses,” Ludlow says roughly. “For what we have planned for her, we can’t have any of those.”
Oh Christ. These men are absurd—and yet dangerous for all their ill-conceived anger.
I let my tongue slip onto his bottom lip. He shifts against me just a little, and one of his hands comes to my arse.
“Pray, what is that?”
The footfalls come closer. We freeze.
This is it. I have finally gotten myself killed through my heedlessness. And maybe Alfred Saintsbury too. With any luck, Mrs. Ludlow will hear our screams and come running.
“A bonnet.”
I realize with horror that it is mine. I didn’t even know that it had fallen off.
“Take it,” Liddell says. “It looks fine. We can sell it.”
The men walk further into the forest, talking as they do so. After a minute, their voices fade.
“I think they’re?—”
“Shh,” Alfred says. “Just wait another minute.”
I obey him, not wanting to be foolish. And truth be told, I am enjoying being so close to him—he smells of new books and bergamot-laced soap, the kind purchased at fine stores in London, and a little cinnamon. His cockstand has not abated either.
I move my leg so that my thigh brushes against it—and he stills me once more.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
