He reached over and toyed with a tendril of hair dangling below her hat’s brim. A flush rose up her neck to her face. But she did not push his hand away.
“My most notable quality is my fortune, I assume.”
“A good fortune has a way of outshining even the finest character and most entrancing eyes. I, however, have no need of another fortune. That ismymost notable quality. As for you, besides your eyes and alluring mouth, your reckless spirit and self-possession find favor with me. Indeed, I admire all those traits that probably make your family despair and call you a shrew.”
“I intend to scold Theo for that. It was most disloyal.”
“He made you sound interesting, not unappealing the way he intended. I would no more want to have a docile woman than you would want to ride the quiet mare the groom tried to send today, instead of Galahad.” He spied a hatpin and plucked it out. Then another. He stabbed both into the ground beyond the blanket. “I have deprived you of your weapons.”
“I keep one on my reticule.”
That reticule rested out of her reach. He removed her hat and cast it in that direction.
He cupped her neck’s nape and eased her toward him. “Believe me when I say that I have desired you since that day you upbraided me as a trespasser. It is convenient that you desire me too.”
* * *
How had she gotten here, on her back, with the duke all but covering her? That thought pierced Clara’s thoughts when the possessive kisses left her mouth and new ones pressed her neck and chest.
Soft hair brushed her face. Masculine weight filled her arms. Rivulets of sensation ran though her body with increasing frequency. She opened her eyes a slit to the bright blue sky above, then looked down to where kisses now circled her breasts. He made her wish the fabric of her habit did not shield her from the full effects of what he did. Astonishment at her reaction had long ago turned to desire for more.
He awoke amazing pleasure in her. Dangerous pleasure. She did not heed any cautions her mind tried to present. She wanted more of this, enough to store for months or years, enough to sustain her memories on days when she did not feel very young anymore.
It is convenient that you desire me too. Oh, yes, yes. She did now. That was the name for the edge within the pleasure, for the more that she hoped he would dare, for the urgency in her blood.
She moved her hand over his shoulders, feeling his form, then down his back. His strength beneath her palm excited her even more. Those kisses burned right through her garments now, tantalizing her until she arched toward him.
His caress smoothed up her body until it closed on her breast. She thought she might die from the delicious torture he created then. He touched her as if he knew just how to drive her further into madness.
Soon she could not control herself or her reactions. She imagined him tearing off her clothes and covering her completely and filling the need that pulsed and called now, that chanted shocking urges in her head.
He did nothing like that. To her furious disappointment, he even stopped the best caresses and soon removed his hand from her breast. She wanted to scream.
“You are too arousing to bear,” he murmured before kissing her neck gently. “Your passion inflames my own all the more. However”—he kissed again—“we are no longer entirely alone.”
She heard them then. There were others on the hill. Not many, and not too close, but—she comprehended what might have been seen on this blanket soon, if Stratton had not kept his senses better than she had.
She sat bolt upright, then scrambled to stand. She snatched up her hat. Stratton handed her the hatpins so she could fasten it to her crown.
By the time she was done, he had the basket and blanket packed away. He looked at the shrubbery, then strode to her, took her head firmly in his hands, and claimed a final, fierce kiss. And she loved it, every second of it, but—heaven help her, what had she done?
Stratton untied the horses. The world became too real. She found it awkward to still be with him, and worse yet to have him lift her onto her saddle.
She avoided any further intimacy on their way back to town. She rode briskly, galloping when she could. She did not want conversation with him. Casual chatting would be impossible. What could she say after what had happened?
To her shock, he reached over and grabbed Galahad’s bridle while they paced toward the bridge. He held the horse firmly.
“You are embarrassed. Do not be.”
“I am not embarrassed. I am . . . dismayed.” It seemed the best word for the confusion of emotions inside her. “I should not have—We should not have—”
“I want you and you want me. Of course we should have.”
“I do not want—” She caught the lie before she finished. Oh, such a lie. Even now with all her suspicions revived, she wanted him. Just looking at him made her body betray her in a hundred ways.Do not be a coward, she scolded herself.Do not pretend. He already knows the truth.
“Ishouldnot want you,” she said firmly.
She yanked the reins and freed Galahad from his hold. She trotted across the bridge and made her way to Bedford Square. Along the way the rest of her sensual haze lifted, leaving the world very crisp indeed.
