Page 17 of A Second Chance for Carys
He had not for a moment considered taking himself in hand to release the desire boiling in his spine, already knowing that it would feel hollow after what they had shared. He wanted all of Carys and would not accept less.
The taste of her lingered on his tongue, the scent of her teased his nostrils, the feel of her writhing in his arms already haunted his memory. So sweet, so maddening, so soft. So perfect.
But because of his restraint, she was worried he did not find her desirable. He could not let her think such a thing.
“Of course, I?—”
He was prevented from telling her just how much he wanted her by a series of shrieks coming from behind the dunes. Women and children, by the sound of things, at least a dozen. He felt Carys tense against him and he knew what she would be thinking. Barely a moment ago, she’d been lying on the sand,spread open, and he’d been lapping at her. They could have been seen in that most intimate position. They had almost been.
He tightened his hold around her and murmured in her ear. “It’s all right. No one can know what we just did.”
She didn’t seem convinced and, in truth, she did look flushed and thoroughly ravished. Perhaps the women would venture a guess as to what they had just done. Well, what of it? Far from feeling shame, pride swelled within him.Hehad been the one giving Carys that glow. It was the most satisfying thing he had done in years.
Rolling up the blanket, he led her toward the trees. He already knew he would place that blanket on his bed tonight and keep it there from now on, as a reminder of the moment they had shared this afternoon.
“Wait here, I’ll get the drink.”
As he reached the horses, a little boy’s head appeared above the crest of the nearest dune. His eyes lit up when he saw the sea and he started to run to it. Carried forward by the momentum, unable to stop himself on the down slope, he went head over heels, rolling until he came to a stop at Carys’ feet. She laughed and helped him up, brushing sand from his hair and clothes with motherly affection.
“That’s what comes from rushing, you little—” He did not understand the word she used and guessed it would have been the Welsh for rascal, or something similar. A smile tugged at his lips. “I understand why you did though. The sea is wonderful, is it not? Are you going for a swim?”
“Get away from the woman, Georgie!” a tall woman, presumably his mother, cried out, once she had made it down the dune in a more controlled manner.
“It’s all right,” Carys gave the little boy a grin. “He didn’t bother me in the least, I assure?—”
“Let go of him, you Welsh barbarian!”
“You have nothing to do here.”
“Don’t even think of touching our children!”
The women, all four of them, surrounded Carys, distrust etched on their faces. It was clear they had identified her as an enemy and, confident in their numeric superiority, were about to unleash their venom onto her. Venom or even possibly physical violence.
James was behind them in the blink of an eye.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked in his best menacing voice, hinting that if there was, he would be all too happy to solve it, but in a manner that might not meet their approval.
The women, who obviously had not seen him amongst the horses and trees, yelped at the interruption. Then the tall one, recognizing him for an Englishman from his speech, stepped forward, hope gleaming in her eyes at the thought of having met an ally.
“Oh, sir, this woman is?—”
“This woman is helping your son putting himself to rights after his fall,” he cut in before she could utter the insult already on her lips. “Do you have a problem with that? Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
“But she’s Welsh!”
“Yes, she is.” This flat, unemotional confirmation seemed to puzzle the woman. She had clearly expected him to agree that Carys was therefore unsuitable to be in the vicinity of young children, in the same way a ferocious ogre would be. He waited. When no other argument was brought forward, he asked: “Are you familiar with Lord Sheridan?”
She arched a brow. “Of course.”
James had guessed she would be. Everyone around here knew Connor Hunter. He commanded respect, but more importantly, he was well-liked and acknowledged as a just and generous lord.
“Well, his brother, Matthew, is married to this woman’s daughter. Welsh as she may be, Branwen ferch Gethin is effectively the new mistress of the place, and a good woman. I don’t think the people at Sheridan Manor would like to hear anyone was stirring trouble about her mother. They might well find themselves having to answer for their actions to her husband and Lord Sheridan himself.”
The women recoiled like frightened birds and he knew he had won. They would leave Carys alone if they ever crossed paths with her again.
“There will be no trouble from us, sir,” a blonde one said, grabbing her tall friend by the elbow as if to urge her to stay silent. “We were only taking the children to the beach, as you can see.”
“Yes. Don’t let us stop you then.”
