Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(6)

Now Lucy was a danger to herself.

And if she stood there a moment longer, taunting him with those glittering eyes and those swollen lips and that flushed, kissable curve of her throat, Jeremy would be a danger to her.

What had he been thinking? He had mauled her like a brute. Never mind the fact that she had mauled him right back, or that the whole thing had been her idea. He was a gentleman, and she was—by birth if not behavior—a lady. She was his best friend’ssister . He ought to be facing a pistol at dawn, or worse. A vicar across an altar.

She must have read the guilt in his eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Jemmy. Henry’s never going to know, unless you tell him.” Smiling, she tied the sash of her dressing gown. “And I strongly suggest you don’t. You’d never live it down.”

“You,” he said, grasping her by the elbow and steering her firmly to the door, “are very late for bed.” He cautiously scanned the corridor before guiding her through the doorway. She started to turn left, toward Toby’s bedchamber. He caught her by the shoulders and swiveled her to face the opposite direction.

“Go to your room, Lucy,” he whispered sternly. “I shall keep my door open all night—if you try to get to Toby, you’ll have to get through me.”

She flashed him a coy look which, in any ballroom, he would have taken for shameless flirtation. She was a quick study, indeed. “Are you suggesting that would be difficult?”

He gritted his teeth. “So help me, I will march you down to Henry’s room this instant if …”

“Shhhh.” She silenced him with a finger to his lips, glancing over her shoulder. “Very well, Jemmy,” she whispered. “I suppose Toby will let Sophia unpack her valises before he drops to one knee. I can wait one more night.”

Jeremy listened to her pad softly down the corridor and strained his ears until he heard the sound of a bolt sliding into place. He sagged against the wall.

It was some comfort to know Lucy slept behind a bolted door. But he would have felt entirely more at peace, were the bolt on the other side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Several hours and countless kisses later, morning dawned, quiet and bright. Lucy rolled onto her elbow and smoothed the hair from her husband’s brow as he stared up at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, settling her chin on his chest.

He folded his arm around her. “I am thinking that I could stay here with you forever.” She smiled and planted a kiss on his collarbone. “But,” he continued, stroking her hair, “I’m thinking that if we don’t get back to the Abbey soon, someone is going to come find us.” He rolled over to face her and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. “Why? What are you thinking about?”

She wound a lock of hair around her finger. “I’m thinking about Albert.”

He grimaced. “Him again?”

“You should give him work,” she said, trailing her finger across his chest. “Then he wouldn’t be skulking about the woods at night.”

“Give him work?” Jeremy snorted. “Like hell I will.”

She frowned. “That’s what Albert said, too. I don’t understand why it’s such a preposterous idea. He needs work; surely you have something he can do. It seems perfectly logical to me.”

“Lucy, he’s been poaching from the estate. He hurt you.” He kissed the objection from her lips. “Intentionally or no, he hurt you. It would be hard enough to forgive him that. I can’t reward him for it.”

“Don’t you see? It’s not about rewarding Albert’s wrongs. It’s about righting your father’s.”

With a sigh, he rolled back to face the ceiling. “I don’t think so, Lucy.”

“Are you sure?” She ran her hand over his chest, flicking his nipple with her fingernail. “I can be very persuasive when I wish to be.” She traced the same path with her tongue, and he groaned. “What do you think now?” she asked saucily.

“I think—” He rolled to face her again and wrapped one arm around her, crushing her close. “I think you said you like me better when I’m not thinking.”

He kissed her deeply, running his hand down her back to squeeze her bottom. She sighed as he lifted her leg and hooked it over his hips, pulling her tight against his arousal. Even after a night of blissful passion, Lucy’s body responded with surprising urgency. She rocked her hips, sliding over his hard length on a slick sheen of moisture. Exquisite pleasure rushed through her.

She reached between them, angled her hips, and guided him into her moist, aching heat. Slowly, slowly. Just an inch. Then two. Stretching out the pleasure by infinitesimal degrees. Jeremy’s hand tightened over her hip. With a low moan, he thrust into her, hard.

“Oh,” she cried, breaking the kiss.

“God, Lucy. I’m sorry.” His expression went from desire to distress in an instant. “Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She pulled away slightly, then rocked against him again. “I liked it. Where did you get this notion, that you have to be gentle with me? I’m still the same Lucy. I’m still the sturdy little chit who can outride and outshoot you. I won’t break.”

He kissed her neck, laughing softly. “You can’t outride me.”