Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom: The Rake and the Heiress / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem. Marguerite KayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
been fired. ‘What is it?’she asked him.
‘Did you see anything?’
‘Nothing at all. I felt something whizzing over my head, but I didn’t see where it came from.’
‘It came from over there.’ He pointed to a clump of trees leading into a wood at the boundary of the property. ‘I’m going to have a look. There’s a barn at the other side of the field, you and Belle can wait there. You’ve had quite a shock. Are you feeling well enough to ride?’
‘I’m fine. But—can’t I come with you?’
‘No, go and wait for me there. I won’t be long. I expect it was a stray shot fired by a poacher, in which case he’ll likely be long gone. What he was shooting at this time of year in broad daylight I have no idea though—rabbits, maybe.’
‘They would need to be flying rabbits,’ Serena said with a weak attempt at humour. ‘That bullet would have gone into my head if I hadn’t bent down.’
‘That thought had not escaped me,’ Nicholas replied grimly. ‘Go and rest, Serena. I’ll join you shortly.’
Giving her no time to protest, Nicholas galloped off in the direction of the wood. Serena headed for the barn, where she dismounted and tied the mare up beside a convenient water trough. The sky was lowering, the morning’s brightness giving way to a squally April breeze. Rain threatened.
By the time Nicholas returned half an hour later it had started to pour, and Serena was beginning to fret.
‘I thought something had happened to you.’
He grinned at the charming picture she made, framed by the doorway in her blue velvet suit with her bright gold hair dishevelled. ‘Don’t be silly, did you think the poacher would shoot me? More likely the other way round, as punishment for his recklessness. Go inside, I’ll just put Titus beside Belle. We might as well wait out the rain here, it will pass over soon enough’
He had found no trace of a poacher, not that he had really expected to do so. He had checked with Farmer Jeffries, whom he had spotted working the fields nearby, but he had seen nothing either, although he had heard the shot. The poacher had aimed high, possibly startled into loosing the gun. It was the only explanation that made sense, Nicholas told himself, for the alternative was that someone had shot deliberately at Serena, and that made absolutely no sense at all. He decided not to worry her unnecessarily with this absurd notion. ‘It was an unfortunate accident, nothing more, but a most unsettling experience none the less. Are you sure you’re all right, Serena?’
She gave him a weak smile by way of reply. She seemed determined to appear little shaken despite the closeness of the bullet. She had real pluck, Nicholas thought with admiration. Every other woman of his acquaintance would have swooned.
‘I’m fine,’ she reassured him again. ‘I got a fright and let my horse bolt, for which I am ashamed. Thank you, Mr Lytton, for being my knight errant. I’m sorry to have put you to the trouble.’ She dropped a curtsy.
‘It was an honour, mademoiselle,’ Nicholas replied with a bow.
He closed over the door to block out the rain, which was now falling heavily. ‘It’s not exactly salubrious, but at least it will keep us dry,’he said, surveying the space. The barn was small, enclosed on all sides. Apart from some bales of hay stacked in one corner and a pitchfork leaning on the wall beside them, it was empty.
Rain pattered on the roof. A gusty wind whistled through the rough wooden walls. Serena shivered, making for the bales of hay, which formed a break against the draughts. ‘We can sit over here, it’s at least a little more comfortable.’
Nicholas followed her. Serena perched on one of the bales, reaching up to remove her hat. The action stretched the tight-fitting jacket of her habit against the contours of her body, the soft velvet outlining the fullness of her breasts. The long line of her throat showed creamy white above the lace of her collar. Turning, she found Nicholas gazing down at her, desire writ plain across his face.
Her heart picked up a beat. They were alone in an isolated barn. A ramshackle building with only bales of straw for comfort, hardly the setting she would have picked for her first experience in seduction. But the raw need on Nicholas’s face was unmistakable. She had only to acquiesce.
Nervously, Serena pushed a stray curl from her eyes. Did she want this? Her whole body screamed yes, but still she tried to be certain in her mind. It was an irrevocable step to take. An idyll, that’s how Nicholas saw it. She was not so sure she would be able to think of it in quite the same way afterwards.
Afterwards. Had she then already made up her mind? The atmosphere between them crackled with tension. Nicholas stood looking down at her, one brow raised. She knew what he was asking. Knew too that he would accept her no, though he wanted her yes. She wanted to say yes. Right here, right now, she wanted to say yes more than anything. But would she feel the same way tomorrow, and the next day, and the next? To surrender herself to him could be to cast the dice irrevocably. Was that really what she wanted? But to draw back from the game now would be to regret having done so for ever, wouldn’t it?
‘Serena?’
Why must he ask? Why must he look at her like that, so she could not think straight? She stood up, reaching to brush a lock of hair from his brow. It was damp from the rain. Black as coal. Soft as silk. She pushed it back, running her fingers along the contour of his skull, trailing them down his neck, fluttering against his skin. What was he thinking?
He smelled of rain and horse and man. His skin was cool and damp. She ran her fingers up through the short hair on the back of his neck. What was she doing?
Their eyes locked, blue on grey, deepening into dark pools of desire. With a harsh intake of breath, Nicholas pulled her roughly to him, holding her close, gripping her waist, cupping her head through her curls. Angling his mouth on to hers, he kissed her hard, engulfing her in sudden heat and passion and fire. Soft curves melted into hard planes.
He deepened the kiss. She reached her arms around him, under the material of his coat, against the soft linen of his shirt, the silk of his waistcoat, feeling the heat of his skin through the delicate material. Her hands roamed across his back, kneading the rippling muscles, tracing the knotted line of his spine. He was all bone and muscle and sinew. Power and strength coiled tight. Heady. Strange. Frighteningly, dizzyingly exciting.
Nicholas groaned, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, his kisses demanding, hardening, deepening. Long passionate kisses. Tiny licking kisses. Nibbling on the corners of her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip, his tongue tangling with her own, sweeping across the tender skin on the inside of her mouth. Licking and sucking and thrusting.
He pulled her closer, pressing his arousal against her through the soft leather of his buckskins. Shockingly hard. Unimaginable. Now, now was the time to stop. To stop before she did imagine. What it would feel like. What it would feel like…
She was hot. Her body thrummed, pulsed, pounded, throbbed. She was a hard core of heat, yet she was melting.
Nicholas licked, and she followed. He bit her lip gently, and she nicked his bottom lip between her own teeth. Tentatively touched her tongue to his when he thrust. She wanted to touch him, but did not know how. She knew she should stop, but did not know how. ‘Nicholas,’ she heard herself say, though surely that was not her voice?
He was still kissing her. Drugging, swollen, swooning kisses, as if he would suck the lifeblood from her. She gave and gave and gave and still he kissed her more. He undid the large buttons of his riding coat and waistcoat, shrugging out of both together. The tiny buttons on her own jacket surrendered to his hands, though she could not have said how. They stood chest to chest. She was breathing as if she had been running. Nicholas, too, his chest heaving, like in the fight. She had no will, no will of her own any more, save to do as he bid.
He tugged the folds of his shirt free from his breeches and took her hands, placing her palms flat on his heated skin. She ran them wonderingly along his