The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (56 page)

Perry caught up with Lord Hepplewort, whose face was bloodied and battered as he ran toward the manor screaming, with Gentry giving chase. Perry kicked him to the ground with his boot to shut him up, then jumped from the horse and pulled Hepplewort up by his jacket, leaving his feet dangling and toes barely touching the ground.

“You repellent sack of used up man-flesh,” Perry said, letting the man fall back to the ground. “Get up and walk. You disgust me.”

Hepplewort grunted, rising and turning quietly for the manor, flanked by the three very large, very angry, very armed men.

Perry examined his face. “Did Fra— Madeleine do that to your face, man?” he asked jovially.

Hepplewort ignored him and kept walking.

“Must kill yer pride to be thrashed by a woman, yeah?” Gentry added.

Hepplewort grunted again and continued limping toward the manor as the men carried on around him.

“She’s no woman,” he countered, unable to control his mouth.

Gentry jumped toward him with a deep growl and Hepplewort squeaked, covering his head with his hands.

“You had best watch your words and tone as it pertains to the future Duchess of Roxleigh,” Perry said easily. “If she heard you, she might break something else,” he added with a wry grin.

Perry looked over his shoulder at the large man they had tied to the saddle of a horse, to make sure he was still unconscious, and saw Gideon turning his horse toward the break in the wood with Francine in front of him. He grinned from ear to ear. “About that contract of yours, Hepple…wort. I believe it may soon be void.”

Hepplewort scowled. “
That
is
not
possible,” he huffed.

Perry glanced back over his shoulder. All he could see was the phaeton with its one remaining horse. “Oh, I believe you’ll find it
is
possible,” he said, chuckling as he pushed Hepplewort forward.

The men moved at a leisurely pace toward the manor, partly to give Gideon time to catch up and partly because Hepplewort was a stunted little man with a newly acquired limp.

Francine’s breathing slowed and she opened her eyes to find them headed into the wood where she could see a meadow beyond dappled with sunlight and covered in a thick blanket of wildflowers.

She held him tighter as they came to a stop in the shade, just inside the safety of the trees. “Gideon?”

“Francine,” he said gently as the sun broke from behind a cloud, creating a halo of light behind him, “you are absolutely correct. Hepplewort will not stop looking for you, this much we know. He will not give up, not until his contract is void.”

“And? It isn’t likely we will find a priest in the meadow or the forest between here and that manor,” she said, pointing back toward the estate.

“No, I don’t suppose we will.” He neatly lowered her to the ground and jumped from the horse.

Her gaze followed him. “Then what do you have in mind?”

“My lady,” he said, standing in front of her, so close that the heat from his body permeated her gown. “My intention—” He paused as his breath quickened and his baritone deepened in his chest. “—is to ruin you.”

Gideon’s hands cradled her chin, weaving into the hair at her nape as his head lowered, drawing her mouth to his.

When their lips met her heart fell back into the panicked cadence it had been used to with his touch. She looked up into his eyes. He took her about the waist and drew her away from the horse to the wavering shade of the meadow.

“You c-can’t,” she stuttered.

“I can,” he countered.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I will.” He kneeled before her on the blanket of flowers, running his hands under her skirts, up her legs, unfastening the ties that held her stockings in place and unbuttoning her boots.

She gasped, trying to push her skirt back down. “Gideon! I didn’t exactly mean—”

“No,” he replied, “I don’t think you did. However, here we are.”

“What about— What about propriety?” she begged.

He glanced up at her, rolling the other stocking smoothly down her leg. “
Propriety be damned
,” he said with a devilish grin.

Her skin prickled at the sincerity of his words and she had no more reservations.
This is it,
she thought, and her head spun.

He ducked back under her skirt to find the ties of her drawers, one hand carefully reaching into the slit, testing her warmth.

Surprised by his touch, she cried out, her knees buckling as her drawers slid down to her ankles. He caught her against himself, delivering her trembling figure to the earth beneath him.

They created a bed of flowers with the weight of their bodies. Surrounded by the field of green, lavender, blue, yellow, and pink, they laid together in the peaceful meadow bordered by the tumult of the world.

“Gideon, what if—”

He cut her off with a strong, fervent kiss. Covering her body with his own, his hands rampaged over her dress, searching for the ties and buttons that bound her.

He reached beneath her and sank his fingers into the button placket and, giving it a solid tug, he tore open the back of her dress, pulling it down from her shoulders. She was completely bared to him as he lifted up on his elbows with a sharp breath and gazed at her heaving breasts. “I like this dress,” he declared. “I really,
really
like this dress,” he added breathlessly.

Her skin flushed pink and she giggled at his untoward demeanor. He bowed his head to one nipple, teasing it to ripeness with his mouth before blowing a gentle breeze across it, forcing the pale tip into a hard point and creating the epicenter of a wave that reached out in spirals to her nerves, wakening every one. She laced her fingers in his hair.

Gideon pushed one strong thigh between her legs, but couldn’t force them apart because of the constraints of the sheath dress. He grumbled at the impediment and moved to her other nipple as he reached down, pulling the skirt up to her waist and smoothing his heavy palm across her exposed belly.

He rose again to her face, kissing her lips till they pinked and swelled beneath his bruising mouth.

She struggled for air and he broke the kiss.

“Francine?” he questioned.

She lifted her hands, fumbling as she undid his shirt to bare his muscled chest. His breath caught, sending ripples toward his center. She traced the lines of his ribs, remembering the first time they had come this far together. This time she was able to see where they led. She followed the twin creases that framed his hips and ducked below his waistband. This time he didn’t stop her. She felt for the fastenings inside the front of his trousers and her fingers brushed the crest of his arousal. This time he urged her on with a groan as he stiffened above her.

“Did I— Did I hurt you?” she asked quietly, her brow knitted.

He shook his head and lowered his face next to hers. “Touch me,” he whispered in her ear, tickling the edge with his tongue.

She felt for the small clips inside the placket, trying to slow her breathing and steady her hands. She loosed them, spreading the front of his trousers wide, freeing his erection. Her eyes widened as she gazed from his manhood to his face and back.

“Gideon,” she said nervously, her hands clutching the opened placket of his trousers.

“No. God, no— Francine, don’t stop.”

Brazenly she wrapped both hands around the silken shaft, amazed by the sensation of pure softness encasing unyielding hardness. She moved her hands, stroking.

He groaned and shook, crying out with a rasping moan and she stopped, unsure of what she should be doing or, for that matter, what she should do next.

He clenched his eyes momentarily then looked down at her. The sun passed through a thin cloud, adding shadow and light to the emotions that rolled across her face. The breeze rustled the leaves and the tall wildflowers and grasses whispered the secrets of the peacefully hidden meadow to the lovers as birds sang in the distance. They lay among the tall grasses, protected from the outside world by the wall of colorful wildflowers.

He pulled her skirts up higher, spreading her legs with his knees as he pressed into her womanhood with his calloused hand, gently stroking the curls and dipping his finger into her warmth.

Her breath escaped her lips in small exhalations. She was so wet, so warm, like a hot spring begging to be entered and enjoyed.

“Francine. For whatever pain I cause you, I will make it up to you a thousandfold. This, I promise you.”

She felt a panic rise and clutched his shoulders as he positioned himself.

“Please don’t look away, Francine.”

She gazed into his hooded eyes, seeing the green of his irises deepen in passion.

“May I?” he asked.

“Yes, Gideon, only you,” she whispered. She watched intently as his face tensed and he advanced on her slowly. The pressure felt hopelessly tight and her body retreated involuntarily. She cried out and dug her heels into the ground,, trying to push away. He sensed her panic and held her steady.

“Gentle, sweet. Gentle,” he said tenderly. He reached between their barely coupled bodies and massaged the little nub above her opening as just the tip of his manhood was enveloped by her folds.

She felt a building of tension, a gathering of nerves. Every feeling she had came together deep inside her belly, pulsing stronger and stronger as he moved forward slowly and she came closer and closer to the edge. All of her anger, all of her worry, all of her pain and suffering collected, until her fingers and toes went numb, as though he meant to erase all of it and replace it with his touch.

He moved his hips, stroking just outside her with the head of his arousal, methodically matching the cadence with his hand as they explored each other’s eyes.

She was incomparably beautiful. Her eyes blazed like liquid fire, urging him on.

A knot formed in his gut as he considered how he treasured her, how he feared the pain he was to bestow. He shut his eyes momentarily to clear his thoughts, then looked into hers again, feeling her body’s response to his heated ministrations. He tensed, willing himself to wait just one more moment.

“Come off for me, Francine,” he breathed.

She was marching toward an unseen cliff, the pressure building until it could not be held in abeyance any longer, and she cried out, her arms flying out to the flowered blanket beneath her. He grasped her hips with both hands and drove into her in one swift, powerful motion.

He groaned from the pain of her unyielding flesh as he forced his way through the taut barrier. He felt her innocence tear around his intrusion at the onset of her climax. She writhed beneath him, trying to escape. The searing pain and impossible fullness melded with the pulsating rhythm of her ecstasy, and he could see the depths of her as her eyes opened wide and a tear escaped, rolling down her cheek as he held her steady.

He paused and kissed it away, then dropped his head to her shoulder as her arms flew to his, urging him on. His hips, unrestrained, drove harder, deeper, feeling her body opening further. He was carried along on wave upon wave of her undulating passion as it threatened to crest and break around him again. He felt the circles of tension coursing around his manhood as he moved methodically within her, and she let out another impassioned cry. With one finishing thrust he cried out, his body convulsing as he arched up on his hands above her, his seed flooding her womb.