"Welcome to our rendezvous," she cried, arching her whole body back, counting on Collin to hold her secure. She grinned up at him with flashing eyes, and he couldn't stop his answering smile.
"Rendezvous, eh? Have I stepped into the middle of an outdoor drama then?"
"Yes," she responded with a lift of her chin. "It's called Hell in a Handcart. I hope you enjoy it."
Throwing back his head, Collin laughed and let his trepidation slide away. His heart lightened, broke free of its doubts and denials, and he pulled her up, curved her into him and held her an inch away from his mouth. She closed her eyes and waited.
"I can't kiss you yet, or Samson will likely spend a week here in the yard."
She nodded, eyes still closed, just-parted lips curved in a small smile. Collin groaned and set her a safe distance away.
"Come. Tell me about this love nest while I tend the horses."
"Brinn has already been seen to," she said breezily as she swung along beside him, hand curled in his. "You brought a groom?"
"I did not!"
Her bare toes peeked beneath her skirt as she walked, catching his eye.
"Really, Collin, do you think yourself the only person who can care for a horse?"
He arched a doubtful glance at her and shook his head. "You groom your own horse?"
"Well, not every day. But I am in the stables constantly and I'm not a raging idiot."
"Perhaps not." He dodged a small, well-aimed foot.
"Come now. What other noblewoman do you know who can do that? My surprise is warranted."
She sniffed, but she wasn't truly offended. He could see not a smidgen of tension in that jaw. And he'd seen it hard as steel often enough.
"Catherine the Great."
"What?"
"Catherine the Great. A noblewoman who personally cared for her horses."
Collin stopped at the stable door to gape at her. She couldn't possibly mean. . . Then she tilted her face up and smiled with a boldness that left no question.
"She was quite the horsewoman, I understand." She slipped into the dim of the stable, leaving him shaking his head that he'd even doubted what she meant.
"I'm beginning to think you a fraud. A tavern wench masquerading as a duke's sister."
"Not a tavern wench," she called, stroking her mare's flank. "A saucy farmer's daughter."
Collin snorted and led his horse to the far stall. He'd ridden a sturdy gelding this time, knowing Thor wouldn't stand a week in a small stable with such a lovely mare as Brinn. He saw to Samson's brushing and feeding, hiding the looks he sent toward Brinn, not wanting to reveal he was checking Alex's work. She'd done a fine job.
Alex lounged against the rough wood wall, watching his hands and explaining the arrangements she'd made.
"So you'll cook for us?"
"Oho, aren't you a funny one? The woman I hired to clean in the mornings will also prepare a full day's worth of food before she leaves. She promised to be gone by nine every day, so we shan't even see her."
"You have a devious mind, young woman."
She shrugged, eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction. "I trained in London."
"Well, hopefully there are still some Scottish skills I can pass on." He watched as she wiggled a little under his gaze.
"My governess was adamant that there is always room to further one's education."
Samson turned to nudge Collin away from the spot he'd been brushing for nigh on two minutes. With a sigh, he set his mind to the task at hand. His chores would be complete within a quarter hour, and they had the whole of a week before them. He tried not to look at her again. Tried and failed.
When he'd finally toted the last bucket of water from the spring, he found he'd misplaced one rosy-cheeked woman. He discovered her inside the house, frowning in puzzlement at a large plate of red mush on the kitchen table.
"Making my dinner, dearest?"
Alexandra jumped and looked toward him with alarmed eyes. "She said to leave the pie in the window to cool."
"Well, it looks cool." Collin squinted toward the shadowed sill of the kitchen window. Red tracks wove over the wood in a serpentine pattern. "Cool enough for a crow anyway."
She stared down at the cherry mess of ruined pie and blinked. "What a terrible kitchen maid I'd make."
"Well, I've worked as a kitchen maid and I'll be happy to serve you."
"Really?" She blinked her shock away and looked him over with a crooked smile. "It must take yards of wool to make a dress your size."
"As luck would have it, my mother did not require me to dress the part."
Her giggle was a little high-pitched. Collin hadn't realized she was nervous, and perhaps she hadn't been earlier, but now he saw that her hands plucked at her skirt as she looked over the room, that her teeth worried the full curve of her bottom lip. It was easy to forget, especially in this circumstance, that the girl was only nineteen . . . no, twenty now. Twenty and usually so very sure of herself.
He stepped close to press a kiss to her nose. "I'll light the lamps. It'll be dark soon."
She avoided his eyes, let her gaze touch everything in the kitchen but him. "I should set the table. Get you some dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
"No?" Her gaze finally settled on his boots. "Thirsty then?"
"Aye," he conceded, tilting up her chin with one cal-lused finger. "I could do with a touch of wine." She brightened with relief and moved quickly to the table, so urgent that her hair trailed out on a breeze behind her.
The cottage was simple and small, and he took in the whole of the first floor with a sweeping glance. Stairs at the back of the kitchen led up to what must be the bedroom. Everything was neat and clean, stone and wood and fine rugs to protect against the hard oak floor.
He wondered who had lived here before. Perhaps no one, perhaps it had always been a trysting place, a hideaway. It was certainly secluded enough. The dimming light of the sun filtered though a canopy of leaves, casting dusk an hour early. Collin moved to light the lamps.
He laid out a small fire for good measure and was trying to decide whether to light it when her shadow fell over his shoulder. Turning from the hearth, he found Alexandra standing a few feet away with a tremulous smile and two glasses of deep red wine.
His mouth watered.
"The wine." Her voice was soft, a little husky, almost a question.
"Yes," he answered, eyes on her mouth. She licked her lips, a gesture he recognized now . . . and appreciated. Smiling, he took the glass she offered and delighted in the blush that stained her cheeks. She didn't seem to know what to do with him now that she had him in her clutches, and Collin was relieved to finally be the seducer.
Sipping his wine, he watched her gulp hers before she turned and retreated to the kitchen to refill her glass. When she wandered back, she did not walk to him, but stopped to stare nonchalantly out the window at the dimness of leaves and shadow.
A wave of heat prickled his nerves and stiffened his cock, an anticipation like the scent of prey. The lust had always been there, always at the surface, but now it was tinged with the chase, the challenge of arousing her beyond her hesitation. He moved toward her with narrow-eyed focus, leaving his wine glass on the table as he passed.
The line of her shoulders was hard beneath the cotton of her gown. She heard him approach, perhaps even saw him reflected in the window, but she pretended not to notice, frozen like a rabbit in the hunt. His smile widened.
Chest no more than a hand's-breadth from the curve of her back, he stopped and breathed in the sweet, flowered smell of her hair. His shaft swelled.
A gasp flew from her throat when his hand touched her hair to sweep it away from her neck. She hissed out a breath when he leaned close enough to kiss her. He didn't though. He only inhaled, savoring the scent that had haunted his nights for months, wanting more of it, the smell of her skin and her arousal, the smell of sex.
She stood still beneath him, holding her breath, waiting. Collin closed his eyes, put his mouth to her neck just as he spread his fingers wide over the curve of her waist.
He wished that he was a beast then, when she shook and gasped. Wished he had sharp teeth to sink into her flesh, that he could press her against the wall and plunge into her from behind like a dog, like an animal.
She thought him so controlled, when he was everything but controlled with her. He wanted to punish her for that, to hurt her the way it hurt him to be near her, but not now. Not like this. Still. . . He was wild and the most he could offer her was pleasure in that wildness.
Stepping away from her, he wrenched off his dusty coat. She turned to watch, no longer blushing, but flushed with desire. She shone with it, eyes glinting in the lamplight.
"I canna promise you finesse this time, Alex."
She shook her head. "No."
"Tomorrow, perhaps."
Her mouth softened a little, smiled, but her eyes dropped to his chest as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. Her lips parted as she watched his movements, avid and heavy-eyed. When Collin jerked the shirt from his breeches, she stepped forward to push the linen up.
His muscles jumped and strained at the sweep of her fingers. She pressed both hands to his ribs, slid them over his chest and up to slip the shirt from his body. Collin threw his head back, overwhelmed by her roaming touch and the fascination on her beautiful face. That she could look upon him with such fervor. . .
"You can't know how much I've wanted to do this, Collin. Since that day in the stables . . . I've spent hours dreaming of your body. Days."
He felt her palms surveying him, lingering over his nipples, the hair that curled in the middle of his chest.
A growl of need flooded his throat, and he laid his hands over hers to still them. "You will unman me before we even start." When he opened his eyes again, she grinned up at him with delight. So much for the hunter being the hunted.
Collin smiled at the thought, chuckled.
"What?"
"Nothing. I overreached myself is all."
She blinked in puzzlement, but her smile never faltered, even as she backed away and began to unfasten her simple dress. Collin's laugh regressed to a growl.
The tiny ribbons of her bodice opened beneath her fingers at a maddeningly slow rate. Dozens of them trailed down the cotton, a line of restraint that ended below her waist, and his fingers itched to help. By the time she had reached the bows at the middle of her belly, Collin realized she wore nothing beneath and lost his fight for patience. She gasped when he reached for the collar and spread it wide, sliding it down over her arms till she was naked to the waist. She did not try to stop him.
"Jesus God," he whispered and kissed her finally, drank in her taste of wine and heat, and nearly spent himself at the warm press of her breasts against his body. A groan fell from her throat and Collin's hands shook as he buried them in her loose hair.
"God," he whispered again, pulling away from her mouth and dropping to his knees before her. Her small, high breasts rose and fell just above his eyes, lifted by her panting chest.
Reverent, fierce, he gazed up at her, almost afraid to touch that soft curve of flesh, afraid to give himself over to her power. She watched him, waiting as he set his hands at her waist and pushed the dress down, letting it fall away from her.
The fabric slithered into a pile and left silence in its wake. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Alexandra stood before him, naked and glorious and unashamed, and Collin's heart twisted with a pop of pain.
"Alex," he moaned, hands smoothing a line from her hips to her waist, to the hard curve of her ribs. "How can you be so beautiful?"
He pressed his face to her belly, to the twitch of strong muscle and satin skin. He dragged his lips over the texture of silk and the scent of woman. Bit lightly at the first rib he found so that her legs gave out and he had to hold her, so that her body fell far enough that the pearl pink tip of one nipple slid right into his mouth.
She arched into him with a cry and a plea. He sucked and she wept. Nipped and she screamed. Then she wrapped herself around him, trapped him within the circle of her legs and pressed her wet heat against his belly.
They both panted, both pressed hard into the other as he fell back on his haunches and slid her onto his lap.
Her mouth fell upon his, and he thrust into her with his tongue as he longed to do with his cock, slipped his hands down to clutch the round firmness of her buttocks, and cursed the painful confinement of his breeches. His hands refused to relinquish their prize long enough to set her aside and tear them off, but he was going to explode before he ever got inside her if he didn't hurry. He'd been waiting so damn long.
Alex rocked against him, sucking his tongue, and Collin forgot his breeches and slipped one hand further down, along the seam of her body and into her slick core.
