Page 51 of My Hellion, My Heart
And with that, she dug her heels into her mount and shot across the clearing, kicking up clods of dirt and grass in her wake. He watched her disappear into the trees, along an overgrown path that would lead back toward the lane instead of Hartstone.
Henry’s opinion of himself had already been as low as he’d imagined it could sink, and it had been a long time since it had bothered him. Since he’d felt a scorching disgust for what he’d let himself become.
But with that cold and brutal set down, Irina had swiftly reminded him.
…
Irina was so furious and so intent on escaping both the man she’d left behind as well as the bright prick of her conscience, she didn’t realize she’d ridden clear past Stanton Park. She and the mare came to a lathered stop in a meadow she did not recognize.
“Sorry, Primrose,” she murmured to the horse as she dismounted, stroking her damp flanks. “We’ll walk back, shall we?”
Her body ached. Her heart, even more so.
Henrywantedher.
Of course, he did. Irina had seen the evidence of that clearly. Heat swamped her as the memory of the glimpse she’d caught made her breath hitch. In Paris, she’d seen enough nude sculptures to know what the male form looked like, but none of them had prepared her for the staggering and unapologetically erect eyeful of him she’d gotten.
He wanted her in ways she could not begin to imagine.
Irina’s core went liquid. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him as well. In her bed. On the floor of that clearing. Anywhere. She craved his hands on her as they had been, and hers on his glorious body, exploring her fill. She wanted to give him the same incandescent pleasure he’d given her.
“Deep breaths,” she told herself, coloring at her wanton, indecent thoughts. Irina drew a restorative breath as she approached the drive for her sister’s estate. One of the stableboys—Percival, or Percy, he was called—rushed up the lane to take the horse. “Give her a good rubdown and some extra mash, Percy,” Irina said to him. “She deserves it.”
“Fer sure, Your Highness.”
The boy led the mare away, and Irina straightened her hair on her walk to the manor, hoping to God she didn’t look like some light-skirt who had just been ravished by a devilishly charming highwayman. It wasn’t far from the truth. Langlevit may not have been a highwayman, but he was every bit as much a rogue. A handsome, seductive rogue who had made her completely forget herself.
Intent on ruination, he’d accused.
Little did he know that at the sight of him in that waterfall, she’d beendesperatefor it. She flushed at the memory. Irina’s lips burned. The space between her legs tingled. Though frustrated afterward, Henry hadn’t seemed displeased while he’d been kissing her. He’d been…tender. For a moment while he’d been touching her, it had felt much like him needingher. And when she’d found her release, he’d held her close.
Right before pushing her away.
Irina sighed. The man was impossible to fathom. Hot one minute, cold the next. As arctic as a winter storm. She huffed a laugh. He deserved some of her old nicknames more than she did. Despite what he’d confessed about his platonic arrangement with Rose, in a few short months, he would be a married man. And if everything went to plan, she would be married, also.
To Max.
“Where have you been?” her sister shrieked as she entered the foyer, already dressed in a lovely light blue gown and looking frazzled. “Rolling around in a barn? Hurry, we’re going to be late.”
“Late?”
“Dinner with Lord and Lady Bradburne.”
Irina groaned. She’d completely forgotten. The last thing she wanted was to go anywhere and have to be social, but she’d promised her sister, and Max couldn’t very well go alone. With his cutting sense of humor, he’d likely end up offending someone.
Frowning as she went directly to her chamber, she recalled what the earl had told her about the latest wager and felt instantly irritated. Though why she was annoyed Max was participating baffled her. She was the one who had encouraged him to do so. Max was simply playing the part of a gentleman in her thrall. He was a performer at heart, after all. Still, it rankled slightly that he would pen in a wager for such a scandalous bet.
A kiss, of all things. And apparently not a chaste one, either. What had Max been thinking when he’d made the wager? Had he entered it, too? She had no intention of kissing him in public. Or kissing him at all. Something like that could indeed lead to her ruination, though one could argue she’d already been well and truly ruined in that clearing. Her body shivered in vivid response at the memory of the earl’s stroking touch, and she willed herself to forget it. It had been a mistake.
Oddly disgruntled, she washed in the slipper bath while her lady’s maid readied her gown for dinner at Worthington Abbey. For the evening, she had chosen a pale lavender silk Parisian concoction with a high waist and long sleeves. The modest bust line only served to accentuate the stunning feature of the dress—a rather shocking expanse of her back. A special corset had been cleverly designed to accommodate the scandalously low rise. The gown was one of Irina’s favorites, and why she felt the need to wear it, she had no idea. Perhaps because she knew she could never wear it in London, not after Henry’s warning. It was far too daring, and as much as she had scoffed at the idea of being in peril, shehadnoticed an increased level of intensity on the heels of those damned wagers. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone.
Particularly Henry.
“A loose knot will do,” Irina told Jane as the maid finished combing her hair. “Quickly, and use those matching combs.” It only took five minutes for Jane to complete the task, and Irina thought she’d done a perfectly acceptable job. Her dark hair was secured at the crown, with a few tendrils pulled loose at her ears.
“Don’t you look beautiful,” a sardonic voice said from the doorway. Max stood there, dressed in showy evening clothes and looking quite dashingly handsome.
From the coy looks she kept darting in his direction, Jane obviously thought so, too. Max winked at her and nodded toward the door. The maid scurried from the room as Irina rose, attempting to clasp a diamond bracelet to her wrist. She vaulted an eyebrow. “Do you wish to incite my sister’s wrath and cause a scandal?”
