Page 25 of Her Dark Seduction
He lifted my skirts and rammed himself into me so hard that my back jarred against the tree trunk. The air was forced from my lungs in mewing gasps as he pounded in and out, slamming me into the tree. With each powerful thrust, the pain of the rough bark digging into my body morphed into intense pleasure, and I urged him on, wrapping my legs around him. He drove into me harder and faster, until I was engulfed by the inferno inside of me. A demonic hunger screamed to be quenched. The urgency of his movements increased sharply and my body tightened in recognition of what was to happen. He then bellowed out his release. His horse stood placidly, unaffected by our frenzied coupling.
I held him tightly, my heart beating furiously, until my vision cleared, and I looked into his face. His breathing was hoarse and labored, his eyes tightly closed. When he opened them, they showed the same doubt and uncertainty as before. Something tormented him, and I had to ease it. I brushed my lips against his mouth and lifted my hand to stroke his face, wanting the pain in his eyes to disappear. He placed a hand over mine. His touch was so tender I gave a low moan of anguish before kissing him once more. I laid my head on his shoulder and sighed as he caressed the back of my neck.
At the sound of the hunting horn, he curled his hand into a fist in my hair and yanked my head away from him. The cold demeanor returned and once again the predator replaced the man. Shaking, I pulled my skirts down, though they would never hide my disgust at what we had done, what I had let—nay—begged him to do. He pushed me toward the horse, helping me onto the saddle, before he swung himself up behind me.
We followed the sound of the horn and rejoined the hunt. Sawford explained the incident with the mare to my husband in a casual tone, as if nothing had happened between us. Yet, for the remainder of the hunt, I could smell his desire and feel his hardness against my lower back as the movement of the horse rocked our bodies together. By the time we returned to the stables, my nerves were torn to shreds, and I was only too glad to leave Sawford to check on my horse.
I found Percy helping a groom rub the mare down. On seeing me, he waved the groom away.
“How fares the mare, Percy?”
“She is well. You’ll be able to ride her again tomorrow.”
I stroked the animal’s forehead, rubbing her nose and smiling as she nickered in delight.
“’Tis good to see you smile, Lisetta.”
I started at Percy’s familiar use of my name. He lowered his voice.
“I know you are unhappy, lady, and I wish I could change that.”
“Do not be kind to me, Percy,” I warned him. “My life is as it is. Kindness, however well intended, will only make it more difficult for me to maintain my resolve.”
“I can help you,” he whispered.
I smiled and held out my hand. He curled his fingers limply round mine. I felt warmth and friendship, but nothing compared to the burning heat of Sawford’s touch.
“You must think of yourself, Percy, not of me.”
He squeezed my hand again. “I’m not only loyal to you, lady, but the king—”
His voice broke off abruptly, and he looked up. Sawford stood at the stable door. I lowered my voice.
“My loyalty is aligned with yours, Percy, but while that black cockroach of a manservant creeps about the place, I can do nothing.”
“But I can. You have a friend in me. Have you not always seen that?”
I pulled him closer, dropping my voice. “Tarvin?” I whispered, “is it you?”
Before he could respond, Sawford joined us and dismissed Percy, telling him to return to his duties. I watched the young man leave. Sawford reached for my arm, but I had anticipated the move and snatched it away before he could gain purchase.
“Do not touch me,” I snarled.
“That’s not what you said when you were mewling like a she-cat in heat as I rutted you.”
Swallowing my self-loathing, I swept past him without reacting. He called after me.
“Be careful whom you attempt to befriend, madam. For your sake and theirs.”
****
The following morning, I woke earlier than usual, exhausted and a little nauseous. Rather than wait for Harwyn, I dressed myself, unable to shake off a lingering sense of dread.
The previous night, my husband had shown a particular relish while pleasuring himself in the solar, licking his lips while watching me with his fetid eyes. Sawford returned me to my room as usual to take me for himself, but he had been unexpectedly gentle. To my shame I had cried in his arms at his touch and before leaving me he held me close for a brief moment, his heart pulsing against my chest. After dressing, he reached out to wipe the tears which moistened my cheeks, but I jerked my head away, turning my back until I heard the door close behind him.
Harwyn entered my chamber just as I finished dressing. My cries of ecstasy from the previous night rang in my ears. I dismissed her and spent the day in my treatment room. Their echoes continued to mock me there. As hard as I tried to shake my head to disperse them, they grew louder—shrill cries, ending in a single high-pitched scream.
An atmosphere of anticipation lingered over the household. When I passed them on my way to the garden, the men stopped their training to stare, only resuming when I told them to show their mistress respect. I spoke in a hollow voice, knowing what little power I wielded here. Lord save me, had they heard my cries? Did they listen at the door when Sawford took me?
