One Night of Scandal
What a streak of wildness you have in you, Mrs Stratton, Richard said
slowly. I have always surmised that you possess the desire to kick aside
the rules of society and be free. He turned his horse so that they were
facing one another, bringing the hunter alongside until his knee brushed
hers. She did not move away, but rather sat frozen in the saddle, her blue
eyes wide and fixed on him.
You did
not ask what the penalty would be if you lost the wager, Richard added
gently.
He took
one gloved hand from the reins and slid it behind her head, into the tangle
of her windswept hair, drawing her closer to him. The horses pressed
together, crushing his leg between their heated bodies. It was a damnably
uncomfortable way to kiss a lady, but it was worth every moment to him, for
he had been wanting to kiss Deb Stratton for a very long time indeed. Her
lips were soft and cool, and she tasted of fresh air and faintly of honey,
and there was some other less definable taste that was Deborah herself, and
it went straight to his head and to other parts of his anatomy that
responded instantaneously. He closed his teeth about her voluptuous bottom
lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, courting a response until she kissed
him back, hesitantly at first and then with growing passion. The touch and
the taste of her fused in his mind with the bright sunlight and the birdsong
and the chill of the breeze, and the desire flooded through him until he was
within an inch of pulling her from the horse and making love to her there on
the bed of leaves beneath the trees.
The
horses shifted and pulled them apart, and Richard reluctantly let Deborah
go. He moved back, his eyes on her face. She looked completely bemused for
a second, dazed and dazzled, and he felt a violent satisfaction to have so
thoroughly undermined her defences. Then her expression warmed into anger.
I
knew you were a rake! She said furiously.
I am so
pleased to have been able to prove you correct, Richard replied.
