Page 45 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
“Far be it from me to deny you, my Headless Horseman.” I practically burn my eyes right through that pumpkin head.
Hmm…perhaps I will deny you when it is clear you wish it so much.
Dammit.
Be that as it may, I have another desire to fulfill…Something I have been preparing as you have been healing.
After Revy knickers and flicks her tail, nudging my shoulder, I smile, finish brushing her, then return the grooming tools to their proper places. More heat nestles between my thighs when I pass the saddle stump where he first spanked me. Will he do something similar when we first fuck? Or does he have something else in mind?
Jack offers me his arm on our way out of the carriage house, and I take it while leaning my head on his shoulder like normal. I love how our fingers tether, even with his gloves.
I want you to know this, my Belle…Jack begins with a firm assurance in his voice as he leads me to his manor. My dress swishes ever so slightly in the breeze as we walk.
This evening, I opted for a feminine, lace-up corset dress in soft linen, the color of burnt orange to flatter my auburn curls, which I’ve woven into a side French braid. Sweetheart neckline, short sleeves, and flared silhouette. Black stockings and ankle boots as usual. A French braid tied with a red ribbon.
These days have been my happiest, ones filled with such hope that I never could have imagined. And despite the wretched darkness of my past, my brief time with you, Belle Holloway, has saved me from the gaping maw of that black hole like the sun shining beyond the eclipse.
All my skin tingles when he rubs my knuckles with his gloved hand. When he lowers his knit head to brush the soft wool along the back of my hand, I imagine the touch of his lips, full and sensual. Everything he says and does thrills me as he leads me to the front doors of his manor. The crisp evening breeze rustles the autumn leaves, casting a whirlwind of radiant colors into the air.
At the doors, he stops, urging me to stand before him with his hand on my waist and the other cupping my chin. I grow warmer with every second.Please do not misunderstand, my Belle,he continues, his voice deep, silky, and confident.I loved my wife. I loved my children. I loved my lifestyle and the people in it. But these few days spent with you have proven to transcend my past life, the good and the ill. It is my most ardent belief that you bear magic within your soul, Belle. I may be bound to one curse, but I am an utter and willing slave to the spell you have placed upon me.
My skin beneath his hand at my waist grows hot. I lift my fingers to settle upon his neck. His breath grows heavier in our mental bond.
Wherever my heart lies, it beats for you alone, Belladonna Holloway.
A soft whimper escapes my throat. My throat constricts from my emotion and the rising of tears. Melting. Swooning. Gushing. Heart fluttering. I waver between them all. And who could blame me?
When he opens the manor doors, my breath hitches.
The faint scent of smoke engulfs my senses. The air itself seems to shift, thick with history and quiet elegance. Ever since we united to clean the surroundings, it’s transformed from a dark and abandoned relic to a hopeful sanctuary, alive with new life and purpose, promising a better future.
The massive front door groans as it closes behind us, sealing us in a world of shadows and warmth. Saying nothing else, Jack guides me through the grand foyer, past dark wood-paneled walls and portraits that seem to watch our every move. The atmosphere is haunting and romantic with the scent of burning wood growing stronger…and something softer, like spice and vanilla.
He opens the door to the sitting room.
“I love this room,” I remark.
It’s timeless and intimate, and the flickering glow of an enormous stone hearth greets me. I wonder how….hmm, I suppose we weren’t in the carriage house too long.
I know…
His voice seems to suggest at something else, and I take in the sensory feast around me.
The fireplace dominates the room, casting dancing shadows along the high ceiling. Flames crackle and pop, spreading warmth everywhere. On each side of the hearth, a large arched window spills the seductive sunset and the autumnal woods. A lovely, large fresco painting rests on the wall above it.
Butterflies in my stomach swoon at the care and attention Jack has put into preparing this room. A surprise for certain.There are thick, plush wool blankets draped across the floor, waiting to wrap us in their softness.
In front of the fire, a worn leather chair sits near a stack of old, well-loved books, their spines cracked with years of use. I may have peaked at his extensive book collection on more than one occasion while we cleaned. He would startle me, catching me in the act of reading.
“Jack…” I gush.
On the hearth’s ledge, a kettle simmers, its steam rising in lazy tendrils, perfuming the room with the familiar scent of ginseng. Oh, lords! Ginseng is associated with more erectile function and overall sexual satisfaction for men. And it boosts women’s libido, increasing arousal, desire, and satisfaction.
I force myself to stay two feet on the ground. Or I fear I’ll float away into the pages of a gothic romance novel.
Candles flicker on the mantle, their flames casting a warm, golden light, and the air is rich with vanilla, cinnamon, and patchouli. My breath quickens at the knowledge of the aphrodisiacal aromas.
“Oh, Jack!” I take both his hands and press myself against him. “Is this happening? Is this really?—”
