“Philippe?” she purred.
“Oui belle,” he replied. He buried his face in her waves of hair and breathed her in. He wondered how she managed to smell so good, even when they had been out in the forest for the better part of an evening.
“Tell me what you would do to me,” she said, her voice shy but also curious.
The small hold he had over himself broke in an instant and he felt hisbody go rigid again. She seemed to understand the change in him and arched back against him. He gripped her hips and breathed through his teeth.
“You are not making this night easy on me, little fox,” he said.
“Tell me,” she whispered. “If you were to take me tonight, what would you do?” Her words came, breathless.
The horses moved at a gallop and Philippe, realizing he was not concentrating on what he should be, slowed them back down to a trot. What was the harm? What trouble could they really get into on the back of a horse? He held the reins in his left hand, the pain from the burn ignored, and with his right hand he brushed the hair away from Alex’s neck, exposing her balmy flesh to the night air.
He leaned into the crook of her neck, the smell of her more intoxicating than the bottle. “Well,” he whispered into her ear, “I would begin by exploring your body. First with my fingertips,” he traced a line with his fingernail from just behind her ear down her neck. “Then with my mouth.” He kissed her along the same line. “I would like to learn every inch of you. But that’s not something I could do in just one night. It would take me many, many more.”
Alex shivered against him. “Then?” she sighed.
“I would like to go slow with you, Alex,” he said. He moved his hand down and pulled the tie of her shirt open, exposing the top of her camisole underneath. He ran his fingers along the lacey edge, tracing the curve of each breast. “But you make me too hot, and I would take great pleasure in teaching you what those pants you wear do to a man.” With that, he bit at her neck and moved both hands down to clutch her hips once more.
She breathed his name, urging him forward. He responded by wrapping the horses’ reins around his wrist, so he had full use of his two hands. Then he deftly unlaced her tunic and at once her shirt was fully open to him. He found his way under the edges of her camisole and pushed his hands up her lean torso and across her fiery skin until her tight breasts were his. He was tentative at first, just daring to feel the soft weight in his hands, knowing he was going further than he should, but then she pressed herself into his hands with a cry, and he seized her possessively. He struggled to move gently. He had no grace or modesty left at this point and he knew the full force of his want throbbed hard against her.
“Alex,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m trying. But I can’t stop myself.”
“Don’t. Don’t stop touching me,” she begged, arching back to put her arms around his neck.
He groaned in response to her yielding. He wanted her in a bed, or on the ground, or up against a tree, but this was all he had and he wasn’t going to waste it. He released one breast then and moved his hand down lower, and for the first time since he had known her, he was disappointed she wasn’t wearing a skirt. If she were, he could tease her far more effectively. Instead, he fumbled at the tie of her pants, looking for a way in. But with his head too foggy and his hand too clumsy, he couldn’t figure it out. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of fabric and tugged the seam of the pants right up her center. She cried out and he did it again. And then again and again, until he controlled her rhythm, and she panted in his arms.
The poor horses were barely moving at all, Philippe having all but forgotten them. He kissed her neck and bit again at her shoulder. Alex gasped and as she did, he felt full of pride and possession. She was his woman. She was his. And he was seconds away from bringing her pleasure to its peak.
She let a delicious moan out into the night. Then she tensed up and jerked, bringing her hands down to grip his arms. Philippe squeezed her tight, burying his face in her hair, awaiting her moment, thrilled to be the one giving it to her.
“Philippe,” she cried.
“Alex,” he murmured against her.
“Philippe, Philippe. I need to—” she continued, breathing heavily. She writhed against him, and he held her even tighter.
“Come for me,chérie” he whispered, “and I promise the next time it will happen when I am inside you.”
“Philippe, I think I’m going to—” she said again but couldn’t finish her sentence. Suddenly, she pitched forward, broke out of his grasp, and dropped her head to the side of the horse. Then with one last gasp, she vomited right down his leg.
Philippe froze. Alex heaved again, spewing the rest of the alcohol into the dirt. The horses whinnied and sidestepped, causing Philippe to break from his shock and take control over them once again. Alex hung limply forward.
Cautiously, Philippe reached his free hand forward and pulled her hair back. Alex whimpered as she gripped the saddle, her head hanging low.
It took a moment for his brain to catch up. He touched her cheek. What just happened? He thought she was about to… Not... He arranged her hair and stroked her back. Then with a great burst of sound, Philippe threw his head back and laughed more fully than he had in a very long time.
“Why are you laughing?” asked Alex in a pitiful, muffled voice. “I threw up on your boot.”
“Come here, little fox,” he said, helping her upright. He pulled her hair off to the side and arranged her shirt so that she was covered once more.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry. Everything is spinning.”
“Try to rest,” he said, stifling his laughter. “I will get you back.” He held her tight, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He was trying to be serious, but he couldn’t break the smile from his face. He kicked his boot, attempting to shake it clean. What had this girl done to him? He was inside out and covered in vomit. He turned again to her hair and chuckled into it. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed her in. And that’s when he realized that he was in love. Utterly and madly in love.
Chapter Twenty-One
Afew miles away, Giroux and his companions were racing to their outpost. The hooves of the horses pounded on the ground as they whipped through the trees. How had the young lord known so much, he wondered, feeling a pall hover around him. Their plan, which had been so carefully crafted, had been unraveled right before him. He didn’t know what to make of it, but he knew his leader would not be pleased by the clever connections the young man had begun to make.
