Trail of Lust by Em Petrova Page A

quietly as possible, grimacing as the lock caught with a metallic click . The wind was kicking up, and hopefully the baleful sound and the shuddering of the glass in the window frames would drown out the fact that she'd sneaked out.
    Her pa rarely awakened during the night—he could sleep through an Irish wake. But if he happened to rouse and find she was missing, the whole county would know about it. Though he'd led Graham right to her, her father would stomp his feet if she flaunted herself right under his nose.
    She prayed Jenkins wasn't prowling around, ready to bring attention to her. That bastard had kept his distance the rest of the day. He hadn't even come inside for meals, much to her relief. She hoped he glutted himself on apples and suffered the consequences of that diet.
    The figure that loomed out of the darkness stole her breath. She clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from gasping as Graham moved toward her.
    Shadows draped his big form, but she knew by the cut of his clothes that he'd dressed for the occasion, as she had. She gripped her boot strings tighter and skipped across the turf and into his arms.
    He caught her up, filling her head with his musky scents. She gulped the air that hung around him like a woman who'd been starved for breath. God, she couldn't get close enough to him.
    He curled around her, drawing her onto tiptoe, gripping her in a crushing hug. Her mind whirled and her body reacted instantly, nipples bunching and her sex pooling with moisture.
    Too soon, he released her. “Come,” he murmured.
    They stole across the field. In the distance, she heard the whicker of his horse. She stopped and glanced back at the house. Excitement and joy boiled in her chest. Next time she crossed that threshold, it would be as a married woman with Graham's hand clutched around hers.
    A flicker of movement near the windmill stopped her in her tracks.
    Graham tossed a look at her. “What is it?"
    She stared, narrowing her eyes to try to see through the darkness. Was that good-for-nothing Jenkins out here, watching her? The wind tore at her straw hat, threatening to rip it from her head and ruin her hair if she wasn't quick.
    "Nothing.” She allowed Graham to pull her forward again. In seconds, the enormous horse came into view. Graham issued a low whistle, and it cantered toward them.
    He caught the reins, a smile in his voice. “That's my boy. Here, darlin', let me give you a hand up."
    His “hand up” turned out to be lifting her into the saddle without a bit of help from her. As he steadied her, he gripped her waist a little too long. She yearned to see his face, but the moon offered little tonight. He reached upward to cup her cheek. She leaned into him like a barn cat, inhaling the scent of his skin and shuddering at his touch.
    "You're sure about this, Kathleen?"
    "I've never been so sure about anything in my life."
    He went still. Again. Last time he'd turned to stone, she'd learned he had a wife who had been murdered. She held her breath and tried to see his eyes, which were hidden by the brim of his hat.
    "There's a current between us,” he said at last, voice ragged.
    Her breath left her with a whoosh. “Yes."
    "I'm glad you gave in to that pull, Kathleen. But there's something you've gotta know before we hitch up."
    A knot clogged her throat. She struggled to swallow around it, her mouth suddenly dry as dust.
    He continued to hold on to her waist, fanning his fingers across her rib cage and sending white-hot shivers through her. But his words put the fear of God into her.
    "Once we marry tonight, baby, I'll spend all night loving you. But in the morning, I'm taking you back to your house, safe and sound."
    She shook her head, confusion a shroud around her mind. “With you, of course. We'll go together to tell my pa."
    He kneaded her waist, moving in so his chest pressed against her knees. “No, sweetheart. We're going to keep this marriage a secret. Just for a little while."
    She felt her