Page 49 of My Hellion, My Heart
“Did you tell Lord Remi about this place?” Henry asked, finishing with his shirt and grabbing his stockings and Hessians. “Did you intend to meet him here for a rendezvous, believing I was still in town?”
“Of course not,” she answered, and from the insulted tone of her voice, he believed her. “He followed without my knowledge. How dare you suggest I intended for a tryst.”
Henry stepped toward her, water dripping from his hair and soaking his collar. “Intended or not, you received one just the same.”
He stormed past her, toward the path that led to the small cabin in the clearing, unable to hold her livid glare. He’d lost control the moment he’d tucked her against that tree, his dripping wet body plastering the back of her shirt and trousers. Even as Remi had called for her, his eyes searching the thick wood for any movement, Henry had felt the weightlessness of abandon lifting him. Dressed as she was, the full curve of her backside on such luscious display, he had wanted only to sink into her.
He heard Irina following him now along the path, her feet breaking small sticks as she rushed to keep up.
“Why are you acting as if I am the one who has done something wrong?” she asked.
Henry faltered in step. She had done nothing—nothing—wrong. He was the one who couldn’t seem to stop making these mistakes, even though in the moment, they felt the furthest thing from wrong. He’d been standing under that waterfall, fantasizing an erotic scenario, one in which Irina joined him, stripping herself slowly before wading into the pool to meet him. He’d been at full mast even before he’d seen her.
Henry had been yanked from his fantasy by the sound of a male voice calling Irina’s name. And when he’d turned, Henry had seen her figure standing stock-still on the brink of discovery. He’d stared at her for a half second before swimming toward shore, irrationally concerned—and elated—that somehow his thoughts had summoned her.
“You should not have come here,” he replied, wishing to hell she had stayed away.
“So why did you just… What was that back there, then? Punishment?”
He strode into the clearing, relieved to see Lord Remi had not hung about, waiting for Irina to return to her horse.
Henry turned to her, his gaze snapping to hers. “Did it feel like punishment to you, Princess?”
She drew back, those violet eyes of hers going heavy with the memory of what had just transpired between them. A furious blush rose, warming her neck and suffusing her cheeks. God, he’d wanted to strip her bare and take her right then and there. Had she been wearing a skirt, easily tossed up over her hips, instead of those damned breeches, he was not quite certain he wouldn’t have. He’d reached into her instead, touching and stroking her, until she cried out, his name upon her lips.
Without waiting for an answer, Henry turned away, toward his horse, hoping to shield from her the renewed ridge of his erection.
“We cannot be found here,” he said, thinking only of the possible firestorm of scandal that would smudge her reputation. But when she spoke he grew disappointed in himself yet again.
“No. I imagine Lady Carmichael would not like to hear such gossip.”
He had not thought of Rose. Not once.
“That is a business arrangement. In name only. Rose is aware of what that entails.” Henry drew a calming breath. “If you’ll meet me back at Hartstone—” he started to say, but Irina went to her mount and began untying the mare from the post.
“I cannot stay,” she said, unable to look at him.
“We need to talk,” he replied, thinking of the betting book at White’s and the reason he’d come to Essex in the first place.
“There is nothing to say. Nothing that will change anything. Leave me be,” she said, setting her booted foot in a stirrup and hoisting herself into the saddle. “I must find Max before he alerts Lana or Gray that I’ve gone missing in the Earl of Langlevit’s woods.”
“It is Remi we must talk about.” He was trying to think of a way to tell her what he knew without mentioning the bets. Or perhaps heshouldmention them. If she knew the truth about why men kept falling at her feet, making fools of themselves, perhaps she’d be more cautious at society events. Not that the bets were the reason he seemed to keep making a fool of himself. He wished it were as simple as money.
Irina gritted her teeth and gathered the reins. “Why must I say this yet again? Max is myfriend.”
Henry took her mount’s bridle and stopped her from riding away. “That is what he would have you believe. I have it on good authority, however, that he has other designs upon you.”
“Whose good authority is this?”
“That does not matter.”
“It does if you expect me to listen.”
He groaned. There was something off about Lord Remi, and Henry needed her to listen. Needed her to believe him. There could be no skirting around the issue any longer.
“There are wagers being placed at White’s,” he said. “They involve you.”
He’d expected a scathing glare or an immediate refusal, but instead Irina broke into a slow smile. And then she laughed.
