A Measured Risk (22 page)

He had also insisted on blind-folding her and pushing her in swing attached to the branch of one of the oak trees near the cottage yard. He said it would teach her how to cope with feeling out-of-control and bring her more into her own body. Whatever that meant.

She would never admit to another living soul
,
besides Ruel, how once she’d become accustomed to the sensation of floating free in the air, she had squealed like a girl. But there in the woods, no one else would ever know, would they?

Yet they were not totally without contact with the world. On the third day, a cart came from Eastwood Place and sent her scrambling to the loft. Ruel said it would come every few days to bring new linens and pick up the soiled ones. It would also bring eggs, milk and butter.

Nevertheless, they did much for themselves. Ruel was patiently teaching her how to make bread and scones.

But he’d done the majority of the upkeep.

Yes, she’d been amazed to see him wash plates and sweep the floor and chop wood and skin rabbits and pluck a quail. But even more amazing was seeing a peer of the realm shovelling manure.

“I wager you’re sorry you didn’t bring any servants.”

He put the shovel aside and tossed the worn leather gloves into the open chest by the door. “I rather enjoy it.”

“You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Hard work is good for the soul.”

“Your servants must be scandalised.”

“When I am on my estate, I play the almighty earl to the hilt. But I own a hunting box in Scotland. Once or twice a year, I go up there and seclude myself for a fortnight at a time. It’s the only place where I can be truly alone. I don’t even take my valet.”

His comment stunned her into silence. She could imagine no other gentleman of her acquaintance hungering for such hard
-
won solitude. Though she certainly understood herself how precious solitude could be.

He returned to the horses and began to brush Sally’s coat, his movements patient and methodical, crooning gently to the mare. She would have never guessed at this side to him.

“What about feminine companionship?” She blurted out the question before she thought better of it. “Surely your fancy pieces don’t enjoy roughing it.”

“Why, my darling, what language!” His deep laughter echoed in the stable. “Fancy pieces
,
indeed.”

“Then your trollops, if you prefer that,” she added in tart tones.

He turned and grinned at her “I have never taken a woman there. Being alone means being alone. Period.”

As he turned and became once more engrossed in the horses, the import settled on her slowly. No other woman had known him like this. Warmth blossomed in her chest. Their shared solitude felt precious in this moment. But she shouldn’t assume he felt the same way. Gentlemen didn’t like their private time intruded on. She knew that. A chill chased the pleasant sensation away.

“I suppose it must be rather tiresome having a female along now.” Immediately, she hated herself. How weak of her to ask. What could he say? Certainly he wouldn’t admit it if it were the truth.

“Nan, I invited you here; went to great lengths to arrange the whole matter.”

“What choice had you? I practically begged you to help me.”

“My darling, I don’t have one charitable bone in my body.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you know damned well why you’re here.” He turned back to her and pointed near the door. “Love, can you bring me that sack of oats?”

Without thought, she bent and picked up the sack. It was less than halfway full and easy to carry. She took it to him. As she approached, he gave her such a first-rate, blindingly charming smile that she didn’t even know where she was. Until Jasper nickered. Every muscle froze and her throat went as dry as parchment. Tingles raced over her scalp and the sack dropped from her hand.

His arms were around her in a flash. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. You’re perfectly safe.”

“I-I can’t…I
can’t
!” She clung to his broad shoulders, unable to get enough air. Eerie tingling crawled over her scalp and her stomach churned warningly. Panicked, she slipped her hands to his shoulders and gave a firm push. “I have to go outside.”

“Just breathe slower, love.” He held her tight and caressed her back.

She breathed deeply and slowly, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling comforted even more by the solid reality of his hard body. Several moments passed and the terrifying sensations eased off. Her heart and breathing resumed some normalcy. “I suppose you think I am the veriest ninny.”

“On the contrary, I think you’re being very brave.”

“Now you’re patronising me.”

“It takes time to get over something like this. And it takes courage to face up to the need to address the issue.”

She barely dared breathe. She wanted him to continue speaking and to tell her all he knew.

“In the dragoons, I saw men older than you get themselves into this same kind of state.”

“Did you? But why did they become afraid when others—like you—didn’t?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t have enough sense to become afraid.”

Disappointment crashed over her. “You’re making sport of me.”

She tried to push away from him but he held her firm. “No, I am not making sport of you.”

He pulled her closer. As close as they could possibly get whilst fully dressed. Vital strength radiated from him, warmth that melted into her very bones. It was intoxicating. Almost of its own accord, her head dropped to lie upon his shoulder. The wool of his jacket prickled her cheek. The sound of his breathing and her heartbeat in her ears filled the moments as he methodically caressed her back.

“And did you comfort them like this?” She attempted a teasing tone.

“Hmm?” His voice rumbled through his chest.

“Those men, the ones who became afraid like me. Did you comfort them like this?”

He moved his hand up and stroked her hair. “No, we threatened them with the sharp end of a bayonet and told them to man up.”

Something about his irreverent, dry tone made her think he wasn’t teasing. She couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“Did that work?”

“Not a bit, my love. Had to figure something else out.”

“What?”

“Something somewhere between this here and threatening them with death.” He nipped at her earlobe.

She gasped at the sharp pain. He licked her lobe, hot, wetness that soothed the sting and tickled her insides with delightful thrills.

She laughed weakly.

“You’re a good girl, Nan.”

Again, that galling sensation of warmth entered her heart. Like she’d been waiting all along for some big, strong
,
fierce-looking man to come along, pat her on the head and tell her she was a good girl. God, how pathetic. However, her indignation seemed to change nothing. She soaked his praise up like a stray kitten with a bowl of warm milk.

He kissed her cheek, a slow, sensual brushing of his lips. “Let me finish feeding the horses.”

He released her and walked back to the fallen bag. His rustic clothes, the plain woollen coat and thigh-hugging nankeen breeches tucked into plain black boots, accentuated his tall, muscular frame. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him as he bent to pick up the bag.

Sexual desire fuelled her energy and she felt stronger than ever. She wanted to show him that strength. The strength he had given her. She could push herself a bit further. “I could do that,” she said. “I could put the food in.”

He turned. His bright blue eyes lingered upon her, so tender and warm that she caught her breath.

All her feelings—gratitude, lustiness and joy in this moment—seemed to squeeze her chest with painful intensity. “Let me do it…please.”

He shook his head. “Not today
.
For now it is enough that you were willing to come close to the horses.”

“But I want to—I want to prove myself.”

“And so you shall, but not today.”

He didn’t believe she was strong enough. He didn’t believe she could do it. The energy inside her churned in her blood, demanding a release. She balled her fists at her sides and pressed her lips together
.

“It chafes, I know, allowing someone else to make decisions.”

At his understanding tone, sudden tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back ruthlessly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just that so much time has passed and I am no better. Nothing changes.”

“Nan, you’re standing in the middle of a stable, not six feet from two full grown horses. Could you have done this a week ago?”

“No.” She inhaled deeply against the burn in her chest. “I daresay I could not have even come near the stable door then.”

“Then that’s progress and I won’t have you negating it.” He left her then and returned to the horses. Within moments, he was back with her. “Now we have the matter of your reward.”

“My reward?” she asked dumbly.

“What did I promise you, if you could come into the stables and offer to help me?”

“You didn’t promise any—” Her voice broke off at the memory. Her face went up in flames. “But you were only teasing me.”

“On your knees, Anne,” he said in a firm tone.

“Pardon me?”

“It’s how it is done.”

“How what is done?”

“Sucking a cock.”

Chapter Twelve

Anne’s knees went rubbery.

“Here?” She glanced down at the straw
-
strewn floor and her every sensibility was offended. However, her nipples pulled tight and wetness began to slick her inner folds. “Did I not warn you about what can happen to a wench who wanders into the stables?” Jon asked.

She laughed shakily. “But the lord ordered me in here. I had no choice.”

He
tsked
at her. “Nan, there are always choices. A wise wench would have found some way to call off or get someone else to cover for her.” He undid the first button on her bodice.

“Jon, what if someone comes along?”

He had her dress open and fondled her breasts, handling them carelessly, caressing her aching nipples then pinching them roughly.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

He brought his lips close to her ear. “There’s no one here but you and me and our feelings.”

She was trembling now and had gone wobbly on her pins.

He grasped her by the shoulders. “You had better kneel down before you fall over.”

He had unpinned her hair and it fell in a cascade over her shoulders.

After so many nights in his bed, she didn’t even try to deny her desire. Nor her enjoyment of his peculiar and perhaps perverse sexual tastes. But it still made her feel unbearably exposed to react so strongly to him. Moreover, she’d learnt there was no point to be gained in letting him have his way too easily. Especially when he was in a playful mood. Worst of all, his refusal to allow her to help stung.

She lifted her chin and stared at him boldly. “You actually think I am going to fall onto my knees like some Covent Garden whore and take that…that
thing
into my mouth?”

“No, I don’t think you’re going to do it like a Covent Garden whore would. For one thing, you’ve absolutely no experience at it.”

“So in other words, I won’t even rate with the whores?”

A grin split his face, giving his fierce features an almost boyish cast that she had never before seen on him. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it like that, Nan.” He cupped her face. “What a mouth you are developing. I’ll have to see what I can do about sweetening it up.”

He put his lips on hers, gentle, warm pressure moving sensually over her for long moments. She swayed into him and he lifted his head. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a slight push. Her heartbeat sped
,
for that was always his signal that he was done with playing. He expected her to either give a straightforward refusal or kneel.