Page 57

Beatrice nodded and tried for a smile, but she was certain it came out as a grimace because he frowned. “Are you feeling well?”

“Ab-b-solutely,” she lied.

Adam shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her body. “Will you be able to ride?”

“Of course.” She tried to sound offended, but she wasn’t certain she succeeded.

“Very well,” Adam said with a healthy dose of skepticism in his voice. Still, he went toward her horse, collected her dry—or somewhat dry—belongings, and handed them to her.

Taking the items with shaking fingers, Beatrice leaned against the tree, hiked up her heavy skirts, and tried to put on her stocking. It didn’t work. Her fingers didn’t cooperate, and her wet feet refused to be hugged by the dry fabric.

“Here, let me help.” Seeing her struggle, Adam gently took the stocking from her.

“How are you—oh!” Beatrice didn’t get to finish the question because he knelt on bended knee before her and rested her hands against his shoulders.

“Hold on.” His knee pressed into the dirt, he elevated her right foot and placed it gently on his thigh.

He proceeded to roll the stocking up her leg, chasing away the chills and covering her skin inch by inch, but somehow making her feel more exposed and naked than she had ever felt.

His fingers stopped at her thigh, and the light graze against her exposed skin almost made her groan. He paused, his shallow breaths leaving white puffs of air in their wake. Beatrice had forgotten all about the cold. A flush bloomed across her skin as heat prickled over her, dampness gathering in that sacred place between her legs, so close to where his hands were holding her now.

After what seemed like an eternity, he tied her garter and dropped his hands. He helped her into her half-boot, carefully returning her foot to the ground, and repeating the same action with her other leg.

He was absolutely silent throughout this entire experience, and Beatrice doubted she would be able to come up with an intelligible thought either. His fingers traveled up her leg, his hot breath caressed her exposed skin, and his chest moved heavily, yet rapidly with his breaths.

The view of him kneeling before her, his head bent, his hands on her legs, sent frissons of pleasure through her and sped her already racing heart.

He lowered her second foot to the ground and shook out her skirts. Her legs were now clad and covered, yet he was still kneeling in front of her, his head bent. She reached out a hand.

Adam took it, and with a deep breath, hauled himself up. “I hope you feel warmer now,” he said hoarsely.

Beatrice’s throat was still dry, and all she managed was to blink and nod.

“Do you need help mounting the horse?”

She could barely speak, let alone walk, so she nodded again.

Adam took her into his arms and deposited her onto the saddle. She took the reins, but her hands shook, and to make matters worse, her wet gown kept sliding against the saddle.

Beatrice dropped her reins. “I don’t think I can ride. My riding habit is wet and—”

Adam didn’t finish listening to her. He walked toward his horse and brought it side by side with hers. Then he mounted his gelding, reached toward her, and in one quick motion picked her up and settled her onto his lap.

Beatrice squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck so as not to fall off. He shifted her off his lap and onto the saddle, his thighs bracketing her hips, and pressed her back against his chest.

“Hold on to me,” he said against her ear.

She nodded, and they trotted away from the gloomy park.

* * *

Adam had his arm wrapped around Beatrice’s body. He could feel her heartbeat even through the layers of clothing, and it was a soothing feeling. She had been shaking at first, but now, she completely relaxed against him and pressed her head against his clavicle. Her hand was gripping his forearm, and her soaking-wet skirts were pressed against his breeches.

Overall, their positions on the horse and the ride in the rain were less than comfortable. But if he wasn’t worried about her health, he could have ridden like this forever. Something about holding Beatrice in his arms felt… right.

He tried to dispel the thought. And when he succeeded, other more erotic thoughts came in its place.

His cock was already alert and ready. Ever since she’d hiked up her skirts to take off her stockings he had been uncomfortably hard. The icy water of the lake was supposed to cool his ardor, or at least, he’d hoped that it would.