Courting the Countess by Barbara Pierce

pencils and tucked them into the basket.
    The walk to Loughwydde was not arduous. The cottage’s proximity suggested that it might have once been part of the property. Perhaps some of the surrounding land had been sold off at the baron’s death. Whistling a tune, Mallory strode across the open area past the stone barn. From the corner of his eye he saw a blur of muted hues coming at him. The impact was not particularly painful. Dropping the basket, he wrapped his arm around his prize to steady himself. Mallory was pleased with his good fortune.
    “Countess, there is no need for these outrageous stratagems,” he said into her shocked face. “If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask.”
    Sputtering incoherent denials, Lady A’Court placed her hands on his chest and shoved. Hard. “I was not trying to touch you, oaf! What are you doing skulking about on my lands?”
    Her straw bonnet had been dislodged and dangled by its ribbons down her back. The careless knot she had twisted her hair into was coming undone around her face. She wore a lilac spencer trimmed with swan’s down at her wrists and across her bosom over a practical brown dress. Mallory gave her feet a passing appraisal and was pleased the ankle-length skirt revealed half boots.

    “Good, you have something sensible on your feet. Let us go,” he said, taking her by the hand and leaning sideways to grab the basket in the other.
    “I am not going anywhere with you, Mr. Claeg.”
    “Of course you will.” He nodded at the house. “You have the choice of walking in the woods with me on a fine spring day or returning to the house and allowing your family to badger you into something you do not want to do.”
    She resisted his subtle tug by keeping her feet firmly locked in place. “And why do you presume you would be the better choice?”
    He took a step toward her and leaned close so that she could feel his breath on her face. She shivered in reaction, confirming what he had sensed. Beneath all that ice, the lady hungered. “Because any sensible lady would rather spend the afternoon with a handsome scoundrel than being lectured by disapproving relatives.”
     
    Mallory Claeg was correct. She had been delaying her return to the house for that very reason. Not that she would admit it to him . He already looked so pleased with himself, smiling down at her with those sorcerer eyes, daring her to defy convention for a few hours. Oh, she was tempted! Brook was biting a hole in her tongue to keep from giving her consent.
    Her inner turmoil must have been apparent on her face. His jaw tightening in determination barely registered as a warning before he bowed low and threw her over his shoulder.
    She clawed at his back seeking purchase in her upside-down circumstances. “Put me down!”
    He shifted her with a series of bounces, trying to find a comfortable balance. She groaned, losing her bonnet. Her stomach roiled from the abuse. “Settle down, Countess. I predict things could become awkward if you alert anyone.”
    Awkward was the least of her worries. He spun them once around, testing his balance. She covered her mouth with her
hand to silence any sound. It might have been laughter, but her corset was digging into various parts of her and it was making her a little queasy. Mr. Claeg had a firm hand on her backside. The pressure kept her in place, although she could have sworn he had caressed the round curve of her bottom. His gait should have been unsteady with her on his shoulder and the basket in his other hand. Somehow he managed both. He did not appear to be overburdened with muscles and yet he felt hard beneath his clothes. No one noticed as he carried her away from the house and toward the woods.
    One of them had to be sensible. “You have had your jest. Enough, Mr. Claeg. Put me down.”
    He twisted his face toward her and pressed a kiss into her corseted side. “I like where you are. Besides, Countess, I thought you would enjoy having me