Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(18)

“Blast, I’m going crazy!” Stefan muttered to himself as he grabbed another handful of oats and held them out to the horse who had become more of a friend than a mere pet.

“She hates me, Samson! Everything about me! I wrote a blasted sonnet, and she walked away! I guess maybe it could be that I keep kissing her…” Stefan began pacing in front of the horse’s stall. “And maybe if I wasn’t so pushy, she might actually wish to talk to me. But I can’t help that every time I look at her I can think of nothing else except kissing her.”

A branch cracked in the distance, putting an abrupt end to his blubbering idiocy. Frozen in place, he looked slightly from right to left before exhaling in relief.

The trouble with saying things out loud was someone might hear him. He glanced around the empty stable, then stepped back towards Samson and whispered, “And it’s not that she hates it, Samson. Quite the opposite, in fact, if you get my meaning.”

Samson looked at him without blinking as if to say, “You do know that I’m a horse?”

And then a thought occurred. It was an unfortunate truth, but a truth, nonetheless. The horse, it seemed, was better at courting than the master. How often had he been approached in Hyde Park? How often had women complimented his horseflesh? Women, who in his mind, wouldn’t know how to purchase a good horse any more than they knew how to purchase Hessians.

“How do you do it, old boy?” Stefan ran his hand along the horse’s glistening fur. “What are your secrets, hmm? A little neigh in the right direction and the ladies flock, isn’t that right?” Stefan elbowed him, and let out a teasing laugh.

“Well, I must say this is another first, Stefan. Asking for seduction tips from your horse now are you? My, my, how the mighty have fallen.” Rosalind quirked a smile as she approached Samson and nuzzled his neck. “At least you sought out a wise teacher. I’m sure he could teach you a few things, couldn’t you, boy?”

Samson, the traitor, neighed in response, kicked his heel and smiled, yes it appeared that horses did in fact know how to smile, though Stefan could have sworn he was mocking him. Wanting to kick something, he managed to keep his voice even.

“Rosalind, were you wanting to go for a ride then?”

“No,” her delicate hand rubbed the horse’s shiny coat. “I came to relay a message to you. It seems you’re needed in London.”

“Reading my correspondence now, sweetheart?” Stefan swiped the letter from her hand and ripped it open.

“No, simply lying in wait for you to get summoned away.”

Stefan grumbled a few French words under his breath as he ripped into the piece of paper. His eyes scanned the written words, but it was hard to believe that this piece of paper would be addressed to him instead of Rosalind, for it didn’t concern him as much as it did her.

“It appears we are to be married today,” he announced, handing the paper back to her.

“You jest. Enough with the horrid proposals. Are you truly leaving?”

Stefan reached out and cupped her chin. “Not without you, sweetheart. Your mother is ill and requires our presence immediately. And you are aware you cannot travel on your own without being ruined.”

Rosalind’s eyes widened. “I’ll bring my godmother.”

“Brilliant. She can sit between us and bring her cane.” Stefan swore again. “We simply cannot bring your entire household!”

“We’re not!” Rosalind clenched her fists and stood her ground. “I refuse to travel alone with you. We’re bringing Mary, and that’s final! I won’t be leg shackled to you against my will. Not now—not ever!”

“I did write you a sonnet…,” Stefan said leaning in to kiss the fierceness from her face.

Rosalind licked her lips and turned away. “Sonnets are longer.”

“Maybe I left out a few parts to keep you in suspense,” he whispered against the back of her neck as he made quick movement to bring her back into his arms. He chuckled against her hair as he flipped her around to see him. His breath was inches from her lips.

She laughed. “Or maybe your brain couldn’t handle so much information at once, and you ended it because you had no other option?” Rosalind’s chest was rising and falling with great effort.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“You wouldn’t da—”

His lips devastated hers before she could finish her sentence. It was the type of kiss Stefan had always wanted to give, but never understood why, until this moment. It was aggressive, like all his kisses had been. But it seemed what he could not communicate with his words, he still wanted to communicate with his lips, in the most primal way he knew how. His tongue invaded her mouth, slowly at first, trying to taste what she lay so tempting before him. Rosalind’s breath hitched as his hands reached around her, pulling her body flush against his. Her mouth was so sweet, so warm, it wasn’t like anything he had ever tasted. It was fresh, invigorating, and it seemed the more he deepened the kiss, the more he felt he would never quench the thirst she had started within him.

Stefan desired to kiss her until she forgot her name, to arouse her until she was screaming for him to stop, and to make even his horse blush and turn away. Her lips pushed back against his, but it only spurred him on more—that is, until she bit his bottom lip. Yes, at first it was erotic, but when she did it again, and this time pushed against his chest, he relented. It was quite honestly one of the biggest regrets of his life, having to stop what felt so good to begin.