Authors: Rebecca Kelley
“I don’t know about the ridiculous.” Wolfgang rubbed against her belly. “But we could aspire to the sublime, reach for that ultimate shiver.”
Zel pushed into the long-fingered hand that had drifted
between her legs, smiling at the rumble coming from his chest. “A shiver of the, which would it be, fourth kind?” With a bow of her back, she moved her mouth to his chest, nuzzling and seeking. Catching that tiny nipple between her lips, she teased it with her tongue, fascinated again by the reaction, wondering if he felt the little strings vibrating from the hardened tip to the juncture of his thighs. His moan told her he felt something akin to that delicate torture.
Arching her back more, she ran a curious hand down his ridged chest and flat stomach, skirting about the part she had earlier grasped so brazenly. His fingers pushed into her, stretching her, making her ready for the exquisite entry to come. The ache inside burned nigh to unbearable, heightened by the tenderness of flesh newly tested and stimulated.
She searched what she could reach of Wolfgang’s hips and thighs and with a sigh slipped her hand between their bodies, returning to the object of her most avid curiosity. But this time she wouldn’t squeeze him like a milkmaid at an udder. Instead she caressed him with a feather soft touch.
“Satan’s small clothes!”
“Am I still being too rough? It’s such a strange mixture of hard and soft.” Zel whispered into his shoulder. “I’m not sure how to go about touching it.”
“You’re doing fine.” His voice sounded low, raspy, as he ran his free hand through her hair, pulling her face back to his. “Only, you’re calling me strange again.”
“I’m sor—” His lips angled and pressed into hers. When his tongue caught hers, she realized the salty taste she had noticed on his tongue was her. She squirmed against his hand until his thumb rested on the amazingly sensitive little button of skin. That newly familiar tightening began deep in her abdomen, pulling at her until she felt drawn and taut as the strings of her pianoforte, and still he stroked her.
“Now,” Zel breathed, releasing him and rolling to her back to give him access to her. “I want you to be part of me again.”
Wolfgang wound an arm about her. “Then where are you going?” Not waiting for an answer, he drew her over his chest and glided into her slowly and smoothly. “Have you never wished to ride astride?”
The grip on her insides tightened as she pushed nearly upright, bracing herself, with hands splayed on his chest. “I think I like this.” She moved her hips in a circular motion, grinning at his groan. “Yes, Mr. Centaur, I like this a lot.”
“I could get quite used to this view.” His hands edged up her sides to weigh her breasts in his palms, his thumbs teasing her erect nipples, his eyes absorbing her. “You have a perfect seat, ma’am, among other things. Can you go the distance?”
“Try me.”
“Your wish is my command, Countess.” He started out seductively slow, an easy walk along a path in a well-tended park. Yet as she adjusted to his smooth movements adding a few twists of her own, he shifted to a trot.
“Lord.” Zel gasped, her whole insides clenched as if in the grasp of a giant fist. A fist that kept squeezing her, shaking her, pulling her away from the safety of the trail.
“Better than—” he muttered between quickening breaths, “—sidesaddle?”
Rational speech left her and she could only nod as Wolfgang moved into a canter, slapping her thighs softly against his chest and sides. He hauled her to his chest, claiming her lips with the same force he claimed the rest of her body.
“God, Wolf.” Zel breathed into his mouth as they broke into a full gallop and his fingers slipped between them. She felt her body stumble and shake as she neared the precipice toward which this mad ride was headed.
“Now. With me,” he whispered, harsh, ragged, pulling her screeching over the edge, dashing her senseless, shattering bone, nerve, and sinew.
“Good … Lord, Wolf.” Zel slumped against him, conscious only of the rhythmic pulsing fanning from her
core. She lay still, unable to move, unwilling to break their joining, contact more intimate than anything she would have imagined possible just days ago, leaving her open and vulnerable yet warm and content.
As Wolfgang’s breathing slowly returned to normal, his unsteady hand threaded through her hair. “Centaurs are immortal, Gamine, but not deity.”
She stirred, tickled by his chest hairs against her cheek. “What are you talking of now, you madman?”
“More insults! You call me god. You call me centaur. Now you call me madman.” He tugged on her ear, playfully pinching the tip. “Which is it, elf?”
“I think you are a half-mad centaur.” Zel laughed into his neck. “But if this gets any better, I fear I may begin to worship at your feet.”
“Do you think we will ever get vouchers for Almack’s?” Wolfgang watched Zel’s shoulders jerk as he broke the silence.
Her eyes were wide when she looked up from the thin-sliced beef she’d been gradually slipping to the waiting hound. “Almack’s?” She coughed. “Us?”
“Yes, us.” He gestured to her plate. “Remus can go to the kitchen and get his own food. We’d do that stuffy, old assembly hall some good.”
She smiled shyly. “Who would agree to sponsor us?”
“Lady Cowper owes me a favor.” He grinned broadly before bathing a piece of crisp carrot in the tangy sauce and popping it into his mouth. “Plus she’ll like you.”
“I don’t know.” Lowering her eyes, she pushed a few peas around her plate. “We should let the gossip die down first. There is no hurry.” She stabbed one of the elusive vegetables. “Besides, I am a little frightened to go.”
“Frightened? Of Almack’s?” He pushed back his chair, and in two strides shoved Remus aside and knelt beside her.
“You needn’t be afraid of anything, Gamine. Together we can brave whatever the ton throws our way.”
“I am not as brave as you.”
“I disagree. I think you’re fearless.”
Zel looked at her hands. “I fear too many things.”
He scanned her face, surprised at her confession. “You don’t fear me, do you?”
She twisted away from him. “No, but it’s so … awkward, facing you over the dinner table.” Her fingers tensed around her fork. “After what we have done … to each other.”
“Then perhaps in future we should arise earlier.” Wolfgang eased the fork from her grip, rubbing her long slender fingers. “Then we can face each other over the breakfast table.”
Zel’s voice was tiny and low. “That won’t help.”
“I know what will.” He clasped her hand and stood, pulling her from the table. “Let’s get out of here. You haven’t even seen the bay yet.”
Unresisting, she followed him into the hall. “I can smell the sea air. How close are we?”
“It’s just over the rise at the back of the house.” Taking her elbow, he guided her down the hall and through a rear door. “We’ll take the road winding through the tall hedgerow over there.” He gestured toward a trail starting at the stables.
They walked in silence up the hill. Before reaching the crest, he turned her back toward the house. “I’ve always loved this place. Even as a child when I visited my grandfather here, I felt I belonged.” He slipped his arm about her waist. “I never liked the old man, but Cliffehaven, with its scrambled architecture and the wild beauty of its setting, I always felt should be mine.”
“It looks almost alive, glowing in the last rays of the sun.” Zel smiled at him. “It is a stirring sight.”
Wolfgang pulled her into him, nestling her backside
against him, feeling that odd childhood sense of belonging expand to include her. Breathing in deeply, he tried to contain the sudden shakiness in his chest, twisting the sigh into a little chuckle. “Ah, it is stirring.” He turned her to face him. “But no more stirring than what I hold in my arms.”
Her blush crept up her neck, spreading over her face.
“You’re such an innocent.” Wolfgang grazed her red cheeks with his knuckles.
“But I’m not anymore.”
“You’ll always retain that intriguing mix of naive miss and siren.” He took her pointed elfin chin in his hand, looking deeply into her tip-tilted eyes. “I’ll still be able to make you blush when you are five and seventy.” He kissed her hard and quick. “And you’ll still make me feel like a randy youth of twenty, when I should have one foot in the grave.
“Come, I’ll show you the ocean before the sun is gone.” Wolfgang whirled her about and towed her at a run to the top of the hill.
Zel stopped, breathing in gulps, surveying the high cliffs and rocky beach below. “It’s splendid.”
“There’s a path down to the beach we can take another time, when we have more light.” He slipped his arm around her, smiling broadly when she rested her head against his shoulder.
Wolfgang stood quietly, watching the waves crash against the rocky shore while the brisk wind whipped about their clothing and hair. He inhaled deeply of the mixed scent of sea air and spice. “You always smell of gingerbread, fresh out of the oven, but that comforting scent has become far more erotic to me than roses or lavender ever could.”
A gust of wind threw her voice about his ears. “It’s just my hair soap. I’m glad you like it.” She sighed, wedging in tight against his chest, twining her arm about his waist. “Will your chef be insulted we left dinner so soon?”
“Mr. Nah has a pretty thick skin, but what did you think of his concoction?”
“I have never had anything like it before. But I liked it.” Zel huddled closer. “We should have served it at our wedding dinner. It would have been a nice surprise.”
“More than a surprise to some. Not all have an adventurous palate, Gamine. In fact, the English are notoriously unwilling to accept surprises at their dinner tables. Satan’s sweetmeats! I didn’t think of it, but one bite and mother and sister would never wish to visit again.” Wolfgang sighed, brushing his cheek against her hair. “I’m glad that bizarre crew is gone. If ever we entertain it must be in secret. Unless every relative but Grandmama and your aunt are on a far isle of Scotland.”
Zel laughed. The walk was a good idea. She’d begun to release a little of the stiffness, the embarrassment he hadn’t been surprised to see follow the wild abandon of their wedding night. It would take her time to become comfortable with her own sensuality, and he hadn’t helped matters by overdoing it. He should have been gentler, gone slower, reined himself in.
But Lucifer’s chin whiskers, he had wanted her, wanted to lay claim to every inch of her. He smiled, last night had been worth the wait. Zel hadn’t been at all shy, she had gone the distance, keeping up with him every step of the way. He kicked a stone over the cliff edge. Throughout the night and morning he had reached for her again and again. She hadn’t hesitated, eagerly sharing her body with him.
“What are you smiling about now? My aunt, my brother, or my father?” A teasing tone accompanied Zel’s wry smile.
“What about my mother, my aunt, or my cousin? If they weren’t so blasted funny, I might have strangled one of them.” He watched a bird soar overhead, a blur of movement in the darkening sky. “Fact is, I seriously considered a little murder. I already have the reputation, after all. But who would I start with and where would it end?”
Wolfgang frowned, resuming their former silence.
Where would it end? He felt so useless holed up in the country, but it was safer for himself and Zel. He should have waited until this was resolved to marry her, but he had pushed her until finally they had no choice. He had gotten what he wanted, but at what price?
He watched the gull circle the bay, skirting the rocks in a long, low glide. Spawn of the devil! If Robin was his villain it could tear them apart. In the end she would give her loyalty to her brother. Zel cared for him, he felt certain, especially after her acceptance of their forced marriage. But how could he ever compete against her brother? All the years she had spent loving and protecting the unworthy cur would clearly outweigh the short weeks since they met at the Selby’s house party.
Robin could not be guilty. He wouldn’t allow it. It was as simple as that. It must be Simon. He had motive enough to kill. The obsession with the death of his sister endured even after so many years. Or Newton. He would enjoy all the plotting and planning, whether he wished to kill or just harass. Or his cold aunt and toad of a cousin. They were greedy enough and lavished no love on the new earl. He twitched his shoulders restlessly. Worm of hell! Where were Raf and Freddie when he needed them?
Wolfgang laughed harshly, catching Zel’s gaze as it lifted from the wave-thrashed beach to meet his eyes. His friends were loyally following orders and staying away from his honeymoon. He smiled thinly at her, wishing he dared to tell her everything, put that wise head to work on the mystery, put that compassionate heart to work on his worries. But Robin loomed between them, as tangible as if he were there, sharing their quiet walk.
“Are you sure we won’t be missed, Marmeduke?”
“We could fall off the face of the earth and not be missed
by those two.” Jenkins chuckled, flashing his perfect teeth at his companion.
Maggie smiled warmly, her red hair shooting off copper sparks in the sunshine. “If they continue to stay abed this late every morning they’ll likely get bed sores.”
“No.” He took her hand, ignoring a rustling in the hedges, pulling her past the impossible topiary animals and evergreen turrets lining the side entrance to the Elizabethan wing. “I think you have to lie still more often for that.”
“For shame,” Maggie scolded. A week ago she would have expired of embarrassment at such a remark, but now her rosy lips parted in a sweet little pout. “Talking of your master so.”
“He wouldn’t blink an eye, and I for one am happy for the extra time we’ve had together these last few days.”
“It’s been like a storybook come true for me.” Maggie smiled boldly, then shyly averted her eyes.
“For me too, princess.”
“Princess. I’ll be damned.” Suddenly, a huge well-fleshed face loomed over them. “Caught you a fancy man, eh, Mags?”
“Ned!” she cried out, stepping in front of Jenkins, chin high. “What business have you here?”
“No business!” Jenkins moved beside her. “Remove yourself from Cliffehaven or you’ll be arrested for trespass.”