moment’s deliberation, she sent the horse soaring over it. Time seemed to stop as they hung suspended in the air. She felt the earl’s body brace for the landing even as her own body tensed. Demon thudded to the ground on the other side of the hedgerow before continuing across the next field.
Exhilarated, Grace laughed loud and long, all sense of decorum abandoned. Her braided hair finally loosed from its pins and she could feel the wind whipping through the long strands. Lost in the moment and uncaring that her unbound hair would be streaming into the earl’s face, she leaned forward over the pommel. The earl did the same until his face was over her shoulder. His breath was ragged in her ear, but she could feel the pleasure in her body echoing in his. He seemed to vibrate with energy behind her.
She urged Demon faster, then faster still, and even the animal seemed to relish the sheer abandon of the moment.
Grace wished she could go on forever. The freedom and joy of the ride bubbled in her blood until she was full of heat and light and energy. But the aged brick of Thistledown came into view on the horizon and she knew she must stop. She couldn’t be this woman, this free spirit.
She reined in and the horse slowed to a canter, then a walk. When the horse stopped, they sat still for a moment. She swore she could feel the earl’s heart pounding against her back.
He swung to the ground, then eased her from the saddle before she had a chance to protest. She braced herself on his shoulders.
“The horse needs to rest.” He was breathing hard. She saw the same exhilaration in him that coursed through her veins. His hands were on her waist, hers resting on his biceps. He leaned in, breathed deep. “My God—”
He broke off, drew in another breath. Lost in the thrill of the ride she could only stare at his eyes, as blue as the August sky behind him. He leaned in farther, lips close to hers. He hesitated, giving her the chance to run. She knew what would happen, knew the inevitability of it. And she wanted it—wanted him—in a way that was both foreign and familiar, and filled her with the same fire as the ride.
She didn’t run. Instead, she gripped his arms and lifted to her toes to meet his lips. When his mouth touched hers, it was neither gentle nor demanding. Instead, it was simply there for her to take from, to use as she wanted.
Emboldened, filled with her own recklessness, she pushed her hands to his shoulders and pressed her lips more fully to his. His mouth opened beneath hers and she darted her tongue between his lips. He tasted hot and salty and male.
He groaned and pushed his hands into her loose hair, taking control of the kiss. The demand was there now, the need clear in his foraging tongue and agile lips. His hands worked through her hair, then cupped her cheeks as he drew her against him. She obeyed, hungry for the forbidden. As their bodies met and breath mingled, Grace knew what she had been missing for so long. The
something
she could never define but that left a hole within her. It was this heat, the fire in the blood and the lust that pooled in her belly.
But even as she craved more he pulled away. His fingers still lay against her flushed cheeks, his breath coming in sharp puffs.
“Miss Hannah, I—”
“Don’t apologize, my lord.” She wouldn’t be able to bear it. Grace managed to keep her tone light despite the fire that raged within her. “Smugglers never apologize.”
She stepped back and his fingers dropped away. Gathering her skirts, she whirled around. Without waiting for assistance—what did propriety matter now?—she mounted Demon astride. She wheeled the horse around and set off at a canter, leaving the earl standing in the empty field behind her.
She knew he watched her go, could feel his gaze on her back. But she refused to turn around and glance behind. Somehow that would cost her the challenge, and she knew she’d won this round between them.
Chapter 5
T HE
Exhilarated, Grace laughed loud and long, all sense of decorum abandoned. Her braided hair finally loosed from its pins and she could feel the wind whipping through the long strands. Lost in the moment and uncaring that her unbound hair would be streaming into the earl’s face, she leaned forward over the pommel. The earl did the same until his face was over her shoulder. His breath was ragged in her ear, but she could feel the pleasure in her body echoing in his. He seemed to vibrate with energy behind her.
She urged Demon faster, then faster still, and even the animal seemed to relish the sheer abandon of the moment.
Grace wished she could go on forever. The freedom and joy of the ride bubbled in her blood until she was full of heat and light and energy. But the aged brick of Thistledown came into view on the horizon and she knew she must stop. She couldn’t be this woman, this free spirit.
She reined in and the horse slowed to a canter, then a walk. When the horse stopped, they sat still for a moment. She swore she could feel the earl’s heart pounding against her back.
He swung to the ground, then eased her from the saddle before she had a chance to protest. She braced herself on his shoulders.
“The horse needs to rest.” He was breathing hard. She saw the same exhilaration in him that coursed through her veins. His hands were on her waist, hers resting on his biceps. He leaned in, breathed deep. “My God—”
He broke off, drew in another breath. Lost in the thrill of the ride she could only stare at his eyes, as blue as the August sky behind him. He leaned in farther, lips close to hers. He hesitated, giving her the chance to run. She knew what would happen, knew the inevitability of it. And she wanted it—wanted him—in a way that was both foreign and familiar, and filled her with the same fire as the ride.
She didn’t run. Instead, she gripped his arms and lifted to her toes to meet his lips. When his mouth touched hers, it was neither gentle nor demanding. Instead, it was simply there for her to take from, to use as she wanted.
Emboldened, filled with her own recklessness, she pushed her hands to his shoulders and pressed her lips more fully to his. His mouth opened beneath hers and she darted her tongue between his lips. He tasted hot and salty and male.
He groaned and pushed his hands into her loose hair, taking control of the kiss. The demand was there now, the need clear in his foraging tongue and agile lips. His hands worked through her hair, then cupped her cheeks as he drew her against him. She obeyed, hungry for the forbidden. As their bodies met and breath mingled, Grace knew what she had been missing for so long. The
something
she could never define but that left a hole within her. It was this heat, the fire in the blood and the lust that pooled in her belly.
But even as she craved more he pulled away. His fingers still lay against her flushed cheeks, his breath coming in sharp puffs.
“Miss Hannah, I—”
“Don’t apologize, my lord.” She wouldn’t be able to bear it. Grace managed to keep her tone light despite the fire that raged within her. “Smugglers never apologize.”
She stepped back and his fingers dropped away. Gathering her skirts, she whirled around. Without waiting for assistance—what did propriety matter now?—she mounted Demon astride. She wheeled the horse around and set off at a canter, leaving the earl standing in the empty field behind her.
She knew he watched her go, could feel his gaze on her back. But she refused to turn around and glance behind. Somehow that would cost her the challenge, and she knew she’d won this round between them.
Chapter 5
T HE
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